Those Red Ties That Bind
by SessKagome and Shade Shaw
Summary: Monster/Vampire AU: In a world where vampires and creatures of darkness swarmed, two lonely souls meet: Darkwing Duck is an infamous vampire hunter; Gosalyn Waddlemeyer is a fiery and energetic orphan. Both will see that, looking into each other's eyes, everyone else will appear empty. Dark reinvention of Darkly Dawns the Duck and Steerminator. Prequel of Oswald Van Helsing.
1. Those rumors along the way

**Shade:** Hello everyone! Welcome to another crazy idea of mine to feed my insatiable thirst for Drake and Gosalyn's fluffy stuff... And since is Halloween's month, is a perfect excuse to start, jeje.

_Note that this will be an AU, so it will be a complete reinterpretation of Darkly Dawns the Duck, as well as Steerminator. But I will try to keep the most emblematic elements of both episodes intact._

**Warnings: Descriptions from insinuating to explicit of depravity and perversion, violence in the later parts.**

**Disclaimer:** Darkwing Duck is creation of Tad Stones and Disney. Please, don't waste time suing a poor writer who spends her whole paycheck in Funkos, thank you.

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**Those Red Ties that Bind **

**Created by Shade Shaw Reilly**

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_"A cruel love, a capricious love had invaded my life. Love demands sacrifices. And in the sacrifices the blood runs."_

**Sheridan Le Fanu**

**Part One: **

**Convergence**

Somewhere in southern Europe, 1869...

_"Our world is nothing more than a dark moor full of insignificant candles. The creatures of the dark stalk us, chase us, seek to make us their Christmas dinner... or Thanksgiving dinner. But beings like me also lurk in the darkness, in search of them; we are the first line of defense against these devilish vermin. Where I put my eye, I put the bullet. Woe to the creature of the unfortunate night that falls into the grip of... Darkwing Duck!"_

The masked duck finished his daily internal monologue with a smile satisfied smile. It was practically his daily routine before embarking on the next part of his adventure, after putting back his topsy-turvy bones after sleeping in the first place of the forest where he was, almost always a tree: He avoided how much he could stay in hostels or pubs, not so much for stinginess (okay... _Just _a _little_), but for the danger of his work.

Darkwing Duck was one of the few old-school monster hunters who were still active in the Old World. The stories of his exploits and adventures had reached levels of legend; although as he himself noted with irritation and finally with bitter resignation, the ancient glories didn't matter if the world quickly forgot them. Had they forgotten the amazing feats he had done in the Crimean Vampiric War where he dusted a whole horde of Prussian vampires with only a couple of blades?! People already forgot how many times he had risked his neck and butt exterminating vampires, werewolves, banshees and all kinds of nasty shit throughout his long and illustrious career...?! Apparently, the collective memory only _remembered _personal satisfaction and general tragedies, only _memorizing _names of Kings or Popes of the moment... Perhaps that was the will of God.

_"I feel like I'm chasing the white rabbit that I'll never catch."_ He thought for the umpteenth time when he entered the nearest pub in a town of bad death that he couldn't remember the name. With the corner of his eye he could see the kind of crowd that got in there: mercenaries, truants, soldiers who sold themselves to the highest bidder, thieves and others... But it was the best place to look for something interesting to dig in the world of darkness... That's why the bartender didn't even blink at the sight of the short white mallard with dark clothes and a cape, purple mask and wide-brimmed hat that sat on the bar.

"You again. Do you ever sleep?"

"I'm a night owl, remember?" he replied in a low and rough voice, but well-modulated. The bartender growled and put a glass of sparkling beer next to him, removing the two silver coins that the duck passed discreetly. Olympic ignoring of the habit of taking off the hat inside in a room, the hunter straightened in his chair, drinking slowly but without pauses, looking around.

How life itself in general, times were changing. Already the monster hunters of his time had retired or died in combat or out of boredom. Darkwing saw young hunters, full of pride and desire for adventure, sign up in hunter's guilds or offering their services to kings and princes, only to find many times that there was nothing "glamor" in their job: Only gunpowder, blood and money. Never a sincere thank you, never a sincere smile.

_Don't _be confused, my reader: Darkwing still had intact the taste for adventure and the desire for recognition from his youthful days. Firm as a rock, impetuous and with a burning desire to succeed... although always a part of him, which was increasingly accentuated with age, did not stop bothering him with pangs of bad conscience: **_"Are you going to do this all your life?" "Don't you think you should hang up the cape and find where to settle down? If you're going to be a bachelor duck, at least go thinking about where to retire..."_**

And when that happened, Darkwing just drowned that annoying voice with a glass of whiskey or with some news that might interest him.

* * *

It was a cold air able to reach the bones, but he felt very safe inside his purple coat and blue shirt. The trees already beginning to undress in the fall let out moans from the aftermath, although not as much as the grunts of the monstrous creature in front of him that, ignoring the bright yellow eyes shining like lamps, claws and fangs that exceeded 15 centimeters and with the size of a draft horse, the masked mallard would have taken it for a common wolf. He had been found it by chance on his way to the nearest city, ready to reach his destination. Darkwing had stopped to collect water in a stream when the creature pounced on him. Darkwing had moved away by a few centimeters before the jaws of the monster closed on one of his webbed feet, to which he responded with a shot of his handgun, always loaded. The silver bullet was buried deep in the left eye of the beast, making it scream deafeningly, making flocks of birds to fly up.

His prey rose again with a strangled roar, showing the enormous fangs and the unharmed eye bloodshot, staring at him, preparing to pounce on... Without doubt, despite the injuries, it still had the strength to fight. Well, he'd give it that pleasure: With a quick movement, he ran and jumped at the moment the creature had closed its jaws to bite him, staying on the air. During that fraction of a second his arms unfolded out of his cape, releasing a shower of daggers that were embedded in the dark skin, already soaked in blood, making it scream in pain, falling sideways, although with one of its claws tried to reach to his opponent, with him noticing this immediately, so he jumped back on the other side, throwing something into the air, apparently a gun... In a matter of seconds, it saw the icy blue eyes right in front of its remaining eye... Until now.

"Suck this, evildoer."

And the creature saw no more, for a fifteen-inch sharp iron had been buried deep in the retina, causing it to explode in a stream of blood that had fallen on his face. With a steep groan, the creature fell on its side, now completely motionless. He let out a sigh as he looked at the body of his prey... A second later he began to curse out loud: The gun he had thrown into the air had landed over one of his feet... As he grabbed his foot and clenched his teeth, he kept an eye on the beast, noting that it was moving weakly. He began counting the seconds in his mind, waiting, until with another groaning groan, the creature convulsed and stayed immobile. Darkwing looked at the corpse with interest.

"It has taken fifteen seconds to make effect... It's still not enough. In those fifteen seconds it could try something... I need to improve my recipe quickly... I hope to get to know him." he said aloud, approaching the corpse and cutting off its head with his big hunting knife. He let the blood drip a little and put the head diligently in a cloth bag previously filled with sea salt: Cutting off the head of a vampire wolf (well, basically any type of vampire) will prevented it from resuscitating and the salt will purify, also preventing the flesh from rotting too quickly... If he wasn't wrong, his destiny was near, crossing the forest; If this vampire wolf was causing disasters in that town, surely showing its head would give him a few bags of gold coins or at most, astonished faces before the powerful Darkwing Duck that had defeated the evil beast that was causing misfortunes among the poor nearby travelers and residents.

_...Damn his luck:_ The sun was hiding. Darkwing let out a groan of exasperation.

"Well, I had to camp here... And I had already excited with another mattress full of peas..." he muttered to himself looking around for the most comfortable tree to shelter... Humm, that maple at his left seemed appropriate. He hid the bag with his possible ticket to a reward in some bushes on the ground (not even in dreams he could sleep with that smell so close to him) and using two of his multiple blades to give himself momentum, the masked mallard climbed to the maple tree, reaching a thick branch near the cup with relative ease. There were branches still loaded with leaves around it, so he would be even more sheltered from the cold. He pulled a thick rope from one of his multiple pockets of his coat and tied his legs to avoid falling. He had eaten before leaving the pub, so he could reflect lucidly about his immediate plans and what could happen, only having the cries of the crickets and owls as accompaniment music.

Darkwing Duck was _almost _forty years old, something that was _hardly _noticeable (to the pride and vanity of the duck) due to almost a lifetime as a man of action and the eternal purple mask that covered his cold blue eyes. For a quarter of a century he had devoted himself entirely to monster hunting, driven by the desire for adventure and fame, to finally leave the peaceful and absolutely boring life he had had before forever and never look back. He had no regrets about abandoning his past life: It was so insignificant that he had died without sorrow or glory, sleeping underground for a long time... Now he was Darkwing Duck, the terror that flaps in the night. Although he had many contacts and acquaintances throughout his hunting career, such as the McDucks or the extinct Van Helsing family, his only friends were his weapons. No one else, nobody less... Well, enough of himself for today... Now he had to focus on his goal. He stretched and watched the moon begin to emerge over him.

_"There are rumors... about a scientist (or inventor, I don't know ...) in a village that is twenty kilometers from here, crossing the forest. They say he has been working on a formula to achieve invulnerability. I believe that is pure bullshit, but maybe it can be interesting for someone like you." He said filling a second jar of hot beer to the stern white mallard in a casual tone. The duck just raised his eyebrows._

_"And what would I want with invulnerability? I'm enough and spare myself with my impeccable efficiency and cunning. That is rather a vampire would want in order to become invincible." He made a mocking face and brought the jug to his lips to take a long sip._

_"...That's exactly what I meant, Mr. Darkwing," the bartender muttered, cleaning a glass with parsimony. Darkwing almost drowns in a drink of beer. To mask his momentary awkwardness, the hunting duck asked him if he knew more about that scientist, passing him another coin between coughs. The bartender picked it up without flinching, cleaning the glass again, he continued in a calm voice: "...I don't know his name, but I do know his last name. He lives in the town I mentioned recently. In fact, I'm surprised he's still alive, with the rumors flying, I wouldn't be surprised if the vampires were looking for him. According to the rumors, he even requested royal protection for him and his granddaughter, but without response yet. "_

_"Sounds like a protective job for Darkwing Duck," the duck replied, placing the iron jug dramatically. In fact, he had already risen with the intention of leaving immediately, when he recalled the important detail of his juicy opportunity of being in the all headlines of the gazettes of Europe: "...Emmm, what's the name of this family, by the way?"_

_"If memory doesn't fail me, I think they said Waddlemeyer. You ask and confirm. Good luck."_

_"_Waddlemeyer, huh? It seems that your curiosity would put you and your granddaughter in a very big problem," he said to himself with a wry smile as he nibbled on a long weed, he had picked up there. It was a habit he had acquired to think better, and habits are hard to die, sue him.

He already had the armed plan: He would appear before the affable Mr. Waddlemeyer and his lovely granddaughter and offer them protection at no cost. Oh, sure they would be shocked that a hunter of Darkwing Duck's prestige was their bodyguard. _"Oh, don't worry, honorable Waddlemeyer family," _Darkwing would say proudly and nobly, "_your well-being is more valuable than a bag of gold, (besides, with what I earned with the vampire wolf, it's enough for to three months.), that invention is too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands; I, Darkwing Duck, will protect it with my life if necessary."_...And then the tears of old Waddlemeyer would fall, wanting to kiss his feet. And then Miss Waddlemeyer would offer him something to drink and eat. _"Oh, my sweet damsel, whatever you do will be welcome to me..._" Darkwing would say rather seductively or paternally, depending on the age of the young lady in question.

_Yep, yep, yep_. It was definitely a good plan.

**...**

The plan broke down almost from the beginning.

When he arrived in the town where the scientist Waddlemeyer lived, he noticed that nobody seemed interested in talking to anyone. Everyone seemed in a hurry to do their errands, completely ignoring the gallant and bold hunter who had just arrived in those parts. He also noticed that it was one of those sad and dull rural villages where most people were poor, if not ignorant; Darkwing, with his striking appearance and dark clothes, certainly stood out there... Bad omen. And it got worse when he tried to get attention to let them know what was in his bag.

"Ehm, excuse me, can you tell me where the sheriff's office is...? Ehm, excuse me, do you know where I can go...? Excuse me, where is...?" And everyone left him there without finishing his questions, leaving him frustrated. Walking down a cobbled street, he looked for a villager who didn't look like an idiot without remedy, noticing then a shoemaker who had his back to him, saving his work stuff.

..._To hell_ with the good manners.

He approached large strides and cornered him, without giving him the chance to escape. "Excuse me, I need to know something, sir."

The shoemaker began to turn around, grumbling: "I already told him that I don't have any more booties! Don't fuck me anymore with...!" But the shoemaker, an old dog, fell silent when he saw the hard expression of the masked mallard in front of him, who had it not been for the shiny silver coin in his hand, th dog would have shouted for help when he saw the tremendous hunting knife in the mallard's belt. The dog frowned: "...You're not from here. We don't like foreigners."

"Although ya'll would _still _accept a coin given by one." Darkwing replied impassively. "I just need you to answer a couple of questions and I'll leave. What do you say?"

"The _more _you know, the older you _are_." The shoemaker replied mockingly. Darkwing sighed and asked him who he could ask for a reward for killing an extremely wild vampire wolf that was wandering in the woods... The old dog laughed, saying if the mallard had come to ask for a reward for getting rid of a vermin, in that town he wasn't going to find much... Darkwing made an effort to hide the _immense_ disappointment that fell on him like a bucket of icy water and cleared his throat.

"Very well... Do you know _where_ the Waddlemeyers _live_?" ..._Aaah_, he could tell that he had luck this time: The dog's eyes widened, apparently looking for where to avoid the question, but it was obvious that the hunter duck wasn't going to let him go so easily... The shoemaker sighed.

"Nobody here wants to talk about it, sir. Old Waddlemeyer didn't know what he was getting into... No, I'm not saying he deserved it, for God's sake, ever! But it's just..." Then, out of nowhere, he composed a trembling expression. "...He had an accident."

"An accident?" Darkwing asked raising his eyebrows. The dog looked awkward and eager to leave, but the duck insisted on eliciting whatever it could of information: This case was getting much more interesting than an insignificant vampire wolf! "...You mean he died? What about his granddaughter?"

"His... His... His _what_?"

"His granddaughter: Miss Waddlemeyer," Darkwing continued, relentless and impatient. "Did she also have an accident...?" The dog was silent, looking as if he was being harassed by a cloud of mosquitoes... Darkwing Duck had the ability to perceive when others were hiding something, so he stroked his hunting knife in an indolent gesture, whispering: "...Or does it look like she will have one very soon...?" The dog paled. Darkwing felt satisfied. "...You will do a good deed for your soul if you tell me where Waddlemeyer's house is... She may be in danger and she needs me."

The dog swallowed and closed his eyes. When he opened it, he gave the way to the house of the scientist to the hunter. Darkwing smiled smugly.

* * *

_"Interesting place." _Darkwing thought as he reached the limits of the property. After a ramshackle fence, there was a strange and crooked building with a tower that seemed to have been built with pieces of metal and wood, with a weathercock that moved with the wind. On one side of the simple garden where one could see an orchard, there was a water mill installed in the stream that ran to the side of the house, as well as several surrounding sheds.

Before reaching his destination, the masked mallard had diverted to the side of the stream to pick up some white lilies that were growing there. If he wanted to gain the confidence of Miss Waddlemeyer, he must first of all pay his respects for the loss of her grandfather... Poor creature, _surely _she would be devastated, looking for a shoulder to cry on, a chest to seek shelter... Darkwing Duck would surely give it to her! And without a doubt, being so vulnerable, she would accept his protection without hesitation. Ooooh, he could see those headlines throwing flowers on him, praising his bravery and good heart...! However, even with his titanic ego, the white mallard was still a hunter, so he was able see them.

They were three men of stocky build that were near there, at the end of the stream. Their threatening expressions and, above all, their neat clothes lit all the red alarms in Darkwing... He hadn't forgotten the shoemaker's expression when referring to Mr. Waddlemeyer's "accident" ...You had to be a fool not to notice:_ "Accident? My feathered butt"_ Darkwing had thought gloomy: If the professor was making an artifact to achieve invulnerability, then, with all those rumors out there, it's more than obvious that vampires or some other hideous being of darkness had reached the scientist's house and they tried to seize his invention... But why kill him when they could simply force him to give him the secret of his invention? Something definitely smelled VERY bad there. He could keep an eye on them, but now he had something important to do... He looked at the flowers in his hand and walked, still glancing at the three men.

* * *

He knocked on the door several times, unanswered, until, clicking his tongue, he noticed that the door wasn't locked. He pushed it gently, receiving him a completely dark hallway. The hunter duck frowned. He clenched his fingers on his weapons (his pistol with his left and his blade with his right), looking around: It looked like the inside of a typical country house with domed roof. A thin layer of dust covered everything and there were no signs of fighting. In a small room there were several furniture and the fireplace was turned off. Darkwing was beginning to doubt: Was Miss Waddlemeyer still here or would she have left when ol' Waddemeyer died... No, no: when they killed her grandfather? Would the authorities have taken her or... They? He held back the urge to try to call her, he must be silent. After finding the kitchen only a couple of useless junk and little else, Darkwing decided to try his luck on the second floor.

At the end of the stairs, there were several rooms, so he tried his luck with the first one on his left: Besides the layer of dust that covered a canopy bed and the furniture, everything seemed normal. There were many books lying on the floor, so he took one at random. There were several scribbles and a series of dates that went back many years ago. Would it be any of his experiments? He leafed through it, but couldn't understand anything written there. He snorted and searched the other books on the floor: They were all the same, with dates, drawings and illegible scribbles... But the last one was different. This one had _something _else... _Much _more.

**_"(...) ...They are offering me money in exchange, why do they insist? I'm not doing this to create those super soldiers that the Kaiser wants, I just want to help people... Is it excessive wanting a change in the current course of things, a change that anyone can access...? "_**

"You ask too much, my friend. Not only the beings of darkness govern this world, but also the powerful ones; it has always been like that..." Darkwing muttered to himself. He kept reading:

**_"I can't believe he's here... I thought he was a myth, but he's real. Ask for my invention. Not even putting protection against them can I take them away... (...) ... There is no hunter who is in the vicinity to whom to ask for protection... (...) ... I'm still not receiving a response to receive royal protection, where can we go? Even if I destroy my invention, they will want to use me to redo it... I came to the fatal crossroads: If I had dedicated myself to my usual home projects and had silenced that voice of altruism that is born naturally to every inventor, everything would have gone differently ... (...) I'm terrified that they will arrive, I can't run away, I can't end our lives to escape the possible torment, although now it's the most desirable... It's just wait and pray until see a miracle...  
_**

**_...Forgive me, Gosalyn. Keep lighting the world with your spirit. Live and have fun for me, my girl, until you find someone who, like me, when look into your eyes, everyone else will seem empty..."_**

_"Gosalyn..."_ Darkwing whispered at that name, not knowing, for the first time, what to think... Then, he noticed a loose paper between the last pages of the book of notes, taking it out and examining it carefully: It was a grey daguerreotype (1)... There was a series of flasks and test tubes in it, and in front there was an old fat duck, with a wide smile... And next to him, in his arms and also smiling, was...

He couldn't see more, because a frying pan (coming of who knows where) had crashed in his head with force, stunning him. His head was spinning while a shrill female voice that sounded quite young yelled in his ear as she mounted from behind his back, sinking his hat to his eyes, blinding him: "Those are grandfather's things! You have no right to touch them, _disgusting _vampire!"

"Wa-wait! I'm _not _a vampire! Get off of me!"

"Yeah right, you are equal to them, now prepare to ask for mercy!"

But Darkwing managed to grab the girl from behind and threw her to the dusty bed in front of them, throwing himself on top of her to try to immobilize her. There he could see that was a little girl, with intense red hair and green eyes that threw sparks of rage as she writhed in his grip with tremendous energy along with shouts so strong it looked like she was going to tear her own throat. Then Darkwing shouted as loudly as he could:

"GOSALYN, CALM DOWN!

The red-haired duckling was petrified for a moment, looking at the adult duck on top of her in disbelief... If it weren't for the tense situation, Darkwing would have found her expression a little comical. He rose gently, giving her space but prepared in case she attacked again. A few seconds passed and she - Gosalyn - finally spoke: "If you _intend _to bite me, I warn you that I ate garlic bread at the Muddlefoots house, so you will get a stomachache much worse than the blow to your head."

While rubbing his sore head where a bump was probably appearing in a few hours, Darkwing smiled wryly: "You can tell, your mouth smells of garlic... And I still haven't _dissolved _in howls of pain, _have _I?"

"Well, I had to make sure, after all, you _are _a stranger snooping around my grandfather's things," Gosalyn said crossing her arms, still sitting on the bed and looking him up and down. The hunter duck had never met a girl like her. "_Who _are you anyway?"

"Oh sure, _sure_." Darkwing said nervously and then in a dramatic pose, he exclaimed: "I am the terror that flaps in the night! I am the pin that blows up the vampire party balloons! I am Darkwing Duck, at your service, Miss Waddlemeyer!" he exclaimed in a bombastic tone, making a bow with his hat to the girl... _And _she laughed.

"_Are _you an actor in a traveling circus?"

"_What?!_ No!" Darkwing exclaimed irritably at the girl's laughter. "I'm a vampire hunter, monsters and all kinds of vermin! I'm one of the best vampire hunters of my generation, hero of the vampire wars and...! What are you laughing at, girl?"

"...And you _let _a little girl stunned you _with _a rusty pan." Gosalyn concluded with a wry smile. Darkwing glared at her, offended.

"Well, I had let my guard down, I admit it, usually my senses are up all the time... I came as soon as I knew that your grandfather had been killed."

"Hey, my grandfather _didn't _have an _accident_, he was...!" She had begun to protest until she fell silent. She looked at the hunter duck with narrowed eyes. "..._How _do you know he _didn't _have an accident?"

Darkwing changed his expression, moving closer to the red-haired little girl cautiously. "Rumors fly, miss. People talked about your grandfather's invention to make people invulnerable."

"Yes, and you came here to have it for yourself, isn't it, Mr. Vampire Hunter? Too bad, he's _not _here anymore and he _never _told me the formula to do it." Gosalyn replied fiercely, crossing her arms and looking away... Darkwing could swear that those green eyes began to crystallize. He sighed.

"Even if that were useful for someone like me, I think something like that would be better to help smaller and weaker people, just as your grandfather wanted." Darkwing said softly. The girl still didn't look at him, but a slight shudder ran through her. "But I came because I know it was more than obvious that the vampires would be behind you, so... I came to _offer _you protection."

Gosalyn sighed. "It took you a long time. It's _too late_."

"I know, and if I had known, I would have arrived earlier." Darkwing insisted getting closer to her. "I'm so sorry, Gosalyn..." She looked at him again. "Have you been... Alone since then?" Her eyes bright with tears, giving him a challenging look.

"Yes, and I won't leave here. Since grandpa died a few months ago I have been on my own. Grandpa taught me how to defend myself. Sometimes the authorities have come to try to take me to an orphanage, but I have scared them with traps... And to the one that is too smart I stun with the frying pan."

Darkwing grimaced with a persistent headache. "Yes, I've _already _noticed that." And to his surprise she laughed... Then a noise from a breaking window paralyzed them both for a few seconds.

The next second Darkwing covered Gosalyn's mouth so she wouldn't speak or shout. She looked at him in fright, while Darkwing sharpened his hearing: Deaf footsteps could be heard on the floor below. Restless breaths. Male voices... The masked mallard looked the girl in the eye and she, understanding him, nodded in turn. Darkwing released her and pulled out his gun, beckoning her to take the pan on the floor. He left the room, watching for any sound, leaving Gosalyn inside. He went downstairs, hearing that the voices were clearer, managing to capture fragments of what they said.

"...But Mr. Hannigan, can you remind me why we have to look for that brat if the inventor Waddlemeyer is gone?"

"...Because of you two, incompetent idiots, Waddlemeyer went to the other world BEFORE master Taurus Bulba knew about the formula. Now we only have his granddaughter, surely that old fat man passed it to her somehow... We will find her and take her to the master."

"Hehehe... And after that we'll eat her, huh?"

"Nonsense. She will be both a source of information and a gift of apology to Taurus Bulba from you. You should be grateful that he didn't devour you first!"

_"Taurus Bulba, huh? I've heard of him... They say he's a vampire lord. Holy crackers, I have the fattest fish in the lake in my nets!" _Darkwing thought enthusiastically... And it was so _much _enthusiasm that he said to himself that, causing the vampire's servants to detect him, knocking down the wooden door that separated them, startling the duck. "Freeze, all of you! Darkwing Duck will blow your...!" But the ram, being much taller than him, slapped Darkwing's hand, letting him drop his weapon. The duck panicked for a second.

"We don't like meddlings, you know...?" But Gosalyn appeared in surprise from behind, dealing a blunt blow with a shovel to the neck of the ram, knocking him to the ground, leaving the other two servants confused.

Without understanding how the hell the girl had gotten there, Darkwing only managed to grab his gun back and say: "Gosalyn, cover your nose!" And taking out a small bottle from the flap of his coat, he threw them at the two men like a grenade. "Suck gas, evildoers!" Immediately an intense foul smell seized the room, coughing the two men coughing in pain, while Darkwing grabbed Gosalyn and ran towards the door. "Later I will ask you where you came from, now we have to go." But when he reached the door he saw that to his horror it was locked. "Where is the key?!" Noises behind them made it clear that the servants were nearby.

"Let's go upstairs, there is an emergency exit!" she urged him, then they rushed on the stairs, just at the moment when one of the men emerged from a corner and began shooting at them, failing for a bit. The ram hit him furiously.

"Idiot, not while he has the girl!"

Gosalyn made Darkwing enter her grandfather's room again. He left her on the floor and leaned against the door with all his might to gain time, while the girl removed some objects from the closet hole. The door began to shake, with Taurus Bulba's servants kicking the door to try to knock it down.

"The game of cat and mouse is over, duck! Give me the girl and maybe we let you go unharmed!"

"What? I wanted to taste the duck's blood, they say their meat is delicious!"

"Shut up and keep kicking, you idiot!"

"Pssst, Darkwing!"

Darkwing turned his head at Gosalyn's whisper, seeing that the red-haired little girl was now in front a hole in the wall, beckoning him to approach her urgently. The hunter duck counted to three and let go of his hands, running towards the wall, at the moment the door swung open and the servants opened fire on Darkwing, with a bullet reaching to lightly touch his right arm at the moment he threw himself headlong through the hole behind Gosalyn. He slid down a kind of stone slide until he reached the ground, realizing they were outside the house. Gosalyn, standing in front of him, helped him up. "So, what we do now?"

"Well, it seems we should..."

"Hey, Gosalyn!" Darkwing and Gosalyn turned: There was a couple in front of them, composed of an extremely obese male goose and a gleaming female canary, which held a casserole in her hands. "You missed lunch, dearest, but at least I could save leftovers for you, it's meatloaf!"

Gosalyn paled. "Eh, thank you very much Mrs. Muddlefoot, but I..." But a roar was heard from behind them, to which Darkwing reacted by taking Gosalyn in his arms and running towards the forest, before the astonished gaze of the Muddlefoots.

"Who was that masked duck?"

"I don't know, but he took Gosalyn! Herb, he could be a pervert! Tell everyone...!"

* * *

In the forest only crows were heard squawking in their path. Darkwing zigzag through the trees, breathing agitatedly and holding Gosalyn against his chest as much as the pain of his wounded arm allowed, behind his back he heard the shots in the air not only part of Taurus Bulba's servants, but also (to their horror), from the town authorities, chasing them on horseback and rifles... They were like a pair of rabbits running away from a huge pack of hungry dogs. He ran along the river that bordered and moved away from the town, trying to lose them somehow. He felt that the forces began to fail him and his muscles screamed in pain at his limit, but he _couldn't _fail, Darkwing Duck _never _give up...

"Stop, in the name of the law! Release the girl!"

"Give us the girl, crazy duck!"

_"Think, Darkwing, think...!"_

A noise of water moving fast alerted him: They were near a waterfall! They were getting closer and closer to the end of the road, apparently there was no other option. He came to a clearing, where a waterfall was visible... It was not giant like the Queen Victoria waterfall (2) but it had a considerable height... It was now or never.

"Drastic moments require drastic actions!" He looked at Gosalyn, still clinging to his arms as if her life depended on it. "...I suggest you hold your breath."

"What?"

"Stop, evildoer!" the policemen exclaimed and then stayed frozen: The moment they came out to the clearing, they saw that the masked mallard had thrown himself to the waterfall, still holding the girl. They had arrived too late... And Taurus Bulba's servants knew it very well.

"...The master _won't_ like this at all."

* * *

"Well... I would like to apologize now for throwing us there so suddenly, but it was the only..."

"_Are_ you kidding me?! It was super exciting! Do you do this every day?"

Darkwing looked in disbelief at the red-haired girl who looked at him with excitement... He had definitely never met a girl like her before... He cleared his throat: "Well, not because I'm usually asleep and usually they run away from me, not us from them." Gosalyn laughed.

Just as the hunter duck had calculated, the waterfall was not exactly high, so it wasn't a spectacular fall they had, but he was feeling his arms like lead while trying to stay afloat and hold Gosalyn at the same time, but, to his surprise, the girl was able to go to the surface on her own, helping him out of the river despite the multiple layers of her dress. Darkwing raised his head and saw that they were in a clearing surrounded by poplars and oaks, as well as several whitish rock formations. He looked at her and took her hand. "Come on, I know a place to hide."

In _another _moment, Gosalyn would have kicked him in the shin and tried to run away than to obey a complete stranger... But this stranger had saved her from those bad guys... Well, awkwardly and with her help, of course, but he had done it, he hadn't left her behind, so... She could trust him for the moment. "Guide me, Mr. hunter." Darkwing just rolled his eyes.

They went into the forest, letting him to guide her. Gosalyn was looking at him all the time: His steps seemed secure, there was no sign that he didn't know where they were going, which could rule out the possibility that everything was a trap... Then her eyes widened when she saw a dark structure half hidden between the foliage and the trees that in the eyes of any other would have looked like a haunted house, but for Gosalyn was just...: "_Keeen gear!_ Is this your secret lair?"

"Ehm, well, one of few." Darkwing said nervously. Seeing the girl's strangeness face, he added: "As you see, I move constantly, so I have been creating... places to which I know that the locals wouldn't go to stay there. So..." He cleared his throat again. "Here we are."  
As she had seen from the outside, it was a building of muted colors where almost everything was in darkness. There were ramshackle furniture here and there, as well as a small kitchen and a living room with a fireplace. Although Darkwing had warned her not to go to the second floor because of the danger of collapse, Gosalyn still thought it was the coolest place she had seen, after Grandpa's house, of course. They lit the fireplace and managed to warm their limbs seized by the cold. For a moment they didn't speak, just enjoying the heat sitting on an old sofa... Remembering the words of the masked mallard, the red-haired duckling couldn't help asking him:

"Wait, does that mean your real lair is far away? Don't you have a house?"

Darkwing seemed nervous, yet he replied, though briefly: "I left it behind a long time ago."

"Did you leave it? What about your family, your friends?" she insisted. The hunter duck said nothing for a few seconds, as if he were thinking about his answer. In the end he told her resolutely that he didn't have one. Gosalyn's response was immediate and left him cold: "So... _are _you an orphan _like _me?"

Darkwing stared at her. At _another _moment he would have replied sharply that it wasn't her business, that he _only _needed her to recover his lost notoriety, nothing more... but now, looking at her deep green eyes, he found himself, again, _not _knowing what to say, except for... "I guess I am."

She said nothing more. Just approached more and hugged him. Darkwing stiffened where he was, unable to react, (_He, the terror that flaps in the night, the one who could against hordes of vampires, not knowing how to react at this time?_), not knowing what to say... But feeling in his chest a small ball of warmth that, after all his career full of blood, cruelty and absence of feelings... he had forgotten it was there. However, it felt good... So good.

And he _didn't _want to stop _feeling _it. _Not now._

**. . . **

"Is that the excuse you give me? Can't you even against a mortal little girl? Give me a reason not to tear up the three of you!" the terrible voice roared from his seat. The goat, the ram and the cow kept shaking.

"Master Bulba, forgive us, forgive us all!" the goat exclaimed in an affected tone. "We were about to catch the girl, but she wasn't alone! There was a damn hunter who was with her!"

"Hummm," the monster mumbled menacingly. "And he took her with him?" The three servants nodded. "Hummm. Did you know his name? Hannigan?"

"Yes, my lord," Hannigan murmured with obvious tone of relief. "He calls himself Darkwing..."

"...Duck."

"My lord? Do you know him?"

"Oh my, my dear lackey. He's a sadly famous name among those of our superior race. He's a clown in disguise, but pretty clever... So Darkwing Duck has Gosalyn Waddlemeyer in his custody, huh?" Taurus Bulba muttered to himself, looking to the side where, in a vacuum sealed glass box, was the key to his absolute invulnerability... He just needed the key. "...It will be like taking down two birds with one stone." Another dark laugh was heard.

**To be continued. **

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**(1) **Daguerreotype: Type of photograph or image in old positive that was obtained from a copper plate covered with silver iodide, beginning to spread since 1839.

**(2) **The Victoria Falls, located on the border of Zambia and Zimbabwe, constitute a waterfall of the Zambeze River. David Livingstone, a Scottish missionary and explorer, visited the waterfall in 1855 and baptized them with the name of Queen Victoria, although they are known locally as Mosi-oa-Tunya.


	2. Those songs in the room

**Part Two: **

**Those songs in the room**

The shadows dispersed as the morning progressed. The constant coming and going of the people around made him feel somewhat nervous, looking in as many directions as possible, waiting for something horrible to jump over them...

"If you _don't_ stop moving your neck like that, you'll have torticollis."

Darkwing Duck looked down at the voice that he caught perfectly even amid the tangle of voices, sounds and screams that were around him: Gosalyn Waddlemeyer looked at him with arched eyebrows while chewing the red apple he had bought for her to make her stop moaning that she was hungry. The adult duck snorted: "I kindly remind you that we are being persecuted by the servants of a vampire lord and that at any moment they can attack us."

"And are weren't supposed to be safe during the day?" Gosalyn asked him "_Aren't_ vampires supposed to only be able to go out at night?"

"Unfortunately, vampires often use mortal peons to which they have submitted with their powers, so they can follow us without problems, even during the day." She said nothing more, taking another bite of her apple with a frown, while he took it from her little left wrist so that they wouldn't be separated in the small crowd.

After spending the night in the makeshift shelter, the fortuitous couple had crossed the forest until they reached a smaller but isolated village... They had decided to move on instead of returning to the former Waddlemeyer house for fear not only of the servants of Taurus Bulba, but _especially_ for the possible 100 arrows thrown at Darkwing's feathered ass for _"kidnap an innocent little girl"_ at the moment that they show their beaks over there again... Seeing the few options, they finally held hands and they started walking towards the south of the forest.

During that little journey that had lasted almost all morning, they had not found anything worth eating, so they had entered the pub of the place in the least spectacular way that the masked duck would have wanted: Dragging their feet and stomachs complaining... And adding to their bad luck that at that time breakfast was already served at the inn and, according to the owner of the pub (an old badger who raised his eyebrows when he saw the red-haired duckling), if they wanted to eat, they had to buy the ingredients on their own and use the kitchen's inn... So, after paying a room for that night, they had decided to explore the small market for luck:

"_What?!_ Two gold coins for a thin bacon strip and two eggs that look like marbles?! This is an outrage!"

"Two coins; take it or leave it, Mr. Fancy Cape" the seller had snorted at the obfuscated white mallard. He looked elsewhere, realizing with despair that they didn't have many options. Frustrated, Darkwing threw the two coins in his face and took the bag with the meager purchase, dragging the girl with him back to the pub, still grumbling:

"Did he see me with the face of the King of England or what the hell? Those damn usurers who love to abuse, and hunters are the ones are called thieves by people... He'll see..."

"Gee, Darkwing, I thought hunters earned a lot of money, doing all those missions and stuff." Gosalyn pointed out strangely as they entered the pub again. The adult duck and the little duckling walked around a couple of drunks in front of them until they reached the small and humble kitchen of the inn, barely illuminated by the small window, which revealed an old wood burner, a rather rusty refrigerator **(1)** and a pile where the pans and other kitchen implements were. The hunting duck shrugged in slight disgust.

"That is what civilians say when they don't risk their lives fighting against all kinds of monsters, but the truth is that it's not as lucrative as they usually say. That is, when you're lucky you can earn enough to take a break, but actually is a constant struggle to look for some work, even if it's cleaning the pipes of giant rats." Darkwing replied leaving the shopping bag on a round oak table that was in the center of the kitchen. He looked at the girl and added: "I guess you'll ask why I took the job in the first place... Well, let's say I like danger, adventure, knowing new things... Things like that."

"And if you fight monsters, why do you wear a mask then?" Gosalyn asked after a moment of silence, at the moment that the hunting duck had taken off his wide-brimmed hat... He, after a pause, left it at the table and gave her a boastful smile.

"You're certainly not the first or the last to ask me that... Because like them, there is nothing that scares more than the unknown." Darkwing declared sliding his cloak below his beak, trying to look dramatic and mysterious... Gosalyn raised an eyebrow.

"Huh, that explains why you haven't removed your mask all day. I thought it was because you had a theater kid complex or something." And then the girl laughed when she saw the face that the hunter put. Darkwing gave her a disapproving look. "Although I'm curious, does that mean you don't take your mask off for anyone?"

"That's right. Not to no one not never, never in life and I hope to continue like this." Darkwing replied proudly.

"...And _what _about to me?" Gosalyn insisted him, putting her best puppy eyes and blinking innocently towards him. Darkwing laughed a little.

"Nice try with those cute little eyes, but no." Darkwing replied with a chuckle, ruffling her hair playfully. The girl snorted and straightened her hair again, smiling at him in turn... At that moment, a loud throat was heard, surprising the two: It was the owner of the inn, with his arms crossed and with a sour expression, looking at them from the kitchen door.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your pleasant conversation, but I need you to finish what you are going to cook, there are other guests waiting." Both Darkwing and Gosalyn blushed, looking at each other with some shame.

"Of course, we'll do it right away, excuse us." Darkwing replied quickly, forcing a smile. The owner of the pub growled and left, leaving them alone again. The duck looked at the duckling with discomfort, now without any trace of the pleasant effusiveness of a minute ago. "Ya heard him, let's hurry. Ehmmm... How do you want your eggs?"

"Scrambled is fine, I guess." Gosalyn murmured, shrugging, looking around and glancing at the ramshackle refrigerator, sticking her head in to inspect it inside. "...Darkwing?"

"Hummm, what's up?" Darkwing asked distractedly as he was busy with the rusty pan, lighting the wood stove and turning to see if she needs help...

"...Think fast!"

An orange blur flew at full speed toward him. Darkwing reacted by pure instinct, giving a strong swipe to the orange stain, sending it to a corner of the room... There it was that he finally noticed that it was an orange, almost split in half by the force of his blow. Darkwing looked at it for a moment, stunned, then he was about to scold Gosalyn for scaring him like that, when the girl let out a loud whistle of admiration.

"Keeeeen Gear, that was amazing, and we don't need a knife to cut it!" she exclaimed with a smile so bright that Darkwing couldn't help smiling too, despite the momentary fright. "I want to try it now! Teach me!"

"No, it's too dangerous... And maybe, someday." Darkwing replied with a smile as he waved the eggs in the pan, now too hot, so much, that he waved his hand as his fingers burned slightly, tearing from the girl off more giggles. Soon, on the plate was a lightly burned fried eggs, a strip of bacon and the orange now completely cut in half, as well as a grapefruit they had found after stirring in the bottom of the refrigerator... It wasn't the consistent breakfast that Darkwing would have liked, much less were the fluffy pancakes with sausages that Gosalyn was well used to, but hey, at least was something.

Darkwing and Gosalyn sat in the dining room that also served as a bar for the inn, at that time something empty for being almost noon. The inn owner looked at them again sourly while cleaning glasses behind the bar. On the table was a wicker basket with traces of bread, which Gosalyn immediately seized, placing it on the table and proceeding to cut the eggs into halves. Darkwing signaled the innkeeper to bring him a cup of coffee, as well as a glass of beer to lighten the palate. Until that moment they were alone at the long oval table, until another diner joined them: He was a red-haired man with shabby clothes and a three-day beard who sat next to them and began to loudly organize the sausages and herring that he had on his plate, then looked up at them.

"Excuse me, can you pass me the bread basket?" Darkwing looked amusedly at Gosalyn who was absorbed in nibbling on her piece of bacon and nudged her gently, sparking her. She snorted and handed the basket to the man.

"Here ya go!"

"Thank you, _sweet_ creature..." the man replied with a rough and strange tone towards the duckling, brushing with his grimy fingers with hers as he took the bread basket... Darkwing's sharp eyes fixed on him a thousandth of a second later. Apparently the little girl hadn't noticed that movement, because she had returned to focus on her bacon. Taking the coffee cup and taking a long sip, the white mallard looked at the guy rather like a hawk, noting that the man threw strange glances at the red-haired duckling from time to time, looks that lasted for an instant, but were captured in detail under the sharp gaze of the hunting duck... It was _that_ dark, elusive and ineffable spark, but present when he was staring at Gosalyn's face... Or _rather_, the movement of her small lips when chewing.

Darkwing had to _suppress_ a sudden but _intense_ desire that had been born from the depths of his guts, of take the fork, which at that time he was precisely holding with the intention of cutting the grapefruit for Gosalyn... and throwing it at the red-haired man with the deadly precision of a dagger thrown into the throat of a vampire or a ghoul and leave it skewered there... He shook his head, making a supernatural effort so much not to reveal any emotion on his face that could provoke a problem... As well as calm the raging beats from his heart and his agitated breathing; seeing that the man returned to throw that unspeakable look, surely loaded with even more unspeakable thoughts, to the red-haired girl, Darkwing made the move: He moved his arm and circled Gosalyn's small waist, drawing her further to his side, surprising to Gosalyn in fact, who looked at him strangely.

"Oh, I wanted to know if you want some grapefruit, sweetie." Darkwing offered with emphasis, making Gosalyn raise her eyebrows: What fly had stung him? _Sweetie?_

"Ehm... Well, it's fine, I guess. Can I have _some_ of that too?" Gosalyn asked, pointing to both the cup of coffee and the glass of beer. The masked duck let out a brief, dry, piercing laugh.

"Nope. Growing girls can't damage their system with that."

"Ah, come on!"

"Well, finish your meal, Gosalyn. We will go out to do some errands." Darkwing announced strangely loudly. Gosalyn looked at the plate: He _hadn't_ yet touched his portion of the eggs, nor the bread, much less the bacon. She looked at him again.

"And what about you?"

"Oh, don't worry... Eat calmly." Darkwing replied softly... Then he looked at the man and he added in a calm but clearly cold tone: "I'm _not_ hungry _anymore_."

* * *

However, something ruined his plan once again: Upon reaching the corner of the pub, a sudden spring storm surprised them as they looked at some showcases looking for some decent-sized hood so Gosalyn could use her . At the moment Gosalyn was going to point sarcastically to him that due to the so "bombastic" appearance of Darkwing himself, they will stand out from the crowd, no matter what they do... When thick drops began to fall on them. Darkwing by reflex action brought the girl once more against him, causing the girl to look at him strangely. Okay, this was getting weird! She had already opened her beak to ask him when the masked mallard told her that if she didn't cover herself, she could get sick. Gosalyn replied:

"Really? When it's so fun to play in the rain and jump over puddles! Have you never done it before?" Darkwing grimaced and shrugged.

"What I can remember from my childhood is reading adventure books and playing with chemistry implements."

"...Wow, and I who had thought my childhood was boring... I don't know why children are in such a hurry to be adults." Gosalyn replied disdainfully, when a lightning tore the sky and rumbled the ground. Gosalyn jumped, shuddering against Darkwing's broad hand that clung to her right shoulder. She heard a mocking chuckle from him.

"Oh? What happened to having fun to play under the rain, little miss?" The white mallard asked wryly. Gosalyn stuck out her tongue.

"Well, I don't retract what I said, ya know? I was just scared of being that so sudden, that was all." Darkwing chuckled again. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," he replied with a languid gesture as he raised his arm so that his cape could cover her as well as possible. Noticing that they were cold, icy drops, of those that reach until to the bone, he urged her to return to the pub again.

At the moment of setting foot on the pub's threshold, just when the storm had broken off with full force over the little town, the place was bursting with people, probably between guests and passing people who had come to take refuge. Darkwing clenched his fingers on the duckling's shoulders as they groped among the small crowd crowded in the room to dry and try to get some heat from the small fireplace. Finally they reached the stairs, climbing noisily due to the old and creaky wood ("_Great, it will make a lot of noise"_ Gosalyn thought plotting to play a little there when her makeshift guardian wasn't seeing her), until they reached a gloomy hall where there were half a dozen doors. The hunting duck ordered her to go to their respective room that they had rented and light the fireplace to warm up, that he would return soon, because he had to 'take care of some things.'

"_Don't_ fool me, you're going to find a dry cleaner to iron your wet and wrinkled cape," Gosalyn replied mockingly, sticking out her tongue. Darkwing crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow.

"I had thought about ordering a special meal for tonight, but I changed my mind." He turned and gave her an equally mocking look. "What do you like to eat so much to order a portion but only for me?"

"Pancakes with a lot of honey. And don't worry, I'll take a good piece from you before you know it." She threatened him with a boastful smile. Darkwing snorted.

"We'll see that, little miss." And after seeing her disappear behind door number 5, he proceeded to disappear in turn down the stairs, feeling strangely light and in a good mood. Not even the hard look of the innkeeper when approaching him and asking for a telegraph **(2)** (_"Do ya see me looking to have something so expensive here? Better go to the sheriff's office in the other corner."_ ) was able to sour the slight smile from the corners of his beak: "I'd like to order something for later," Darkwing said with a sardonic smile and making a gold coin clink in the badger's noses. The innkeeper growled, something that the white mallard understood as a "Yes, what do you want?", so he gave his order and asked him to send them to his room when he was ready. The badger just removed the coin and looked at him unfathomably.

He managed to get back out the door after giving several elbows between clients and passers-by, seriously considering discreetly throwing some of their ampoules filled with butyric acid** (3)** to open a huge gap and to walk quietly. The rain received him as a slap in the face, so he ran avoiding puddles of water until he reached the office of the town sheriff, at that moment empty but still heated. The sheriff, an old hound with long mustaches, looked up from the stack of papers he was reviewing with a magnifying glass.

"By my grandmother's beards, if it's nothing less than Darkwing Duck. What is offered in this town so _lost_ that not even the monsters approach?

"Something for me?" Darkwing asked tersely. The sheriff rolled his chair to the huge wooden table where a recessed telegraph was next to a window, checking several sheets carefully. Seeing that there were no signs of any telegram in his name (no real order, no call for help... What a stalemate he was in...), he cleared his throat: "Can you write anything?"

"Of course, lad. Allow me a moment." the hound growled and took a bell and waved it: "Timon, I need you to write!" He called out loud. Instantly a red-haired meerkat arrived who looked nervously at both the dog and the white mallard. He sat on the telegram table and put on the headphones, turning on the machine. "At your service, lad."

Darkwing sat down and supported his webbed feet on the sheriff's table, began to write slowly and gravely his situation and request:

**"Mr. Hooter. S.H.U.S.H..."**

* * *

When he returned he noticed that the pub had emptied a little; He felt a little unpleasant cold running beneath the cape, so he was dying to dry his plumage in front of the fireplace while he waited for his request. He greeted the innkeeper with a gesture, and then climbed the stairs heavily... Through the corner of his eye he could see nothing less than that repulsive red-haired guy from this morning sitting in front of the bar, drinking a whole bottle of tequila. The mallard wrinkled his beak with disgust.

He stopped dead in front of gate number five when he picked up some sounds behind it. He frowned as he tried to understand what it was... They were drowned moans. What would be happening? He felt that the feathers on his neck were bristling: Wouldn't she have opened the door to a stranger (well, another stranger besides him) in his absence? No, no... The Waddlemeyer girl, despite her tender age had shown surprising precocity and ingenuity, she wouldn't be able to do that... He cursed under his breath when he realized he didn't have the key, he needed to enter without making a scandal... Then he remembered: Oh yes! "This has always been very useful." he thought slyly as he pulled out a hair clip and placed it in the lock, hearing after a few seconds a dry click. He kicked and entered the room exclaiming:

"AHA! You really _thought_ you could go into an unsuspecting man's room and get away with it, but you didn't count on the cunningness of Darkwing Du...!―"... He couldn't finish, because he felt a mass fall from the roof and land on his back, almost knocking him down.

"Gosalyn Waddlemeyer!" The red-haired duckling exclaimed triumphantly, staring with an arched eyebrow at the hunter duck almost knocked down on the ground. "Gee, Darkwing, you should improve your presentation and speech, even in the newspaper cartoons they do better."

"Oh yeah? So how about this!" Darkwing exclaimed in turn, grabbing her with a movement, holding her ankles and leaving her hanging upside down. "HA! Once again, the masked hero returns to... hehe ga-gain... hehehe... co-control of the...! Hahahaha, stop!"

"Try me!" She shouted triumphantly while tickling the sides of the white mallard, making him squirm between wobbles and laughs, until he crashed into one of the few furniture in the room, a sideboard full of books and then fall on the floor... Luckily there was a carpet and he wasn't hit very hard. Darkwing waved his webbed feet in the air, struggling to catch the air, letting go of Gosalyn's feet, leaving her breathing just as agitated next to him, watching him with mockery. "That was fun, we have to repeat it!"

"Ha, haha ... Give me a break, young lady. You are going to provoke me a heart attack." Darkwing snorted, wiping away the tears of laughter that remained dancing on his eyelids. He sat up heavily, looking at the girl leaning against his side, clearly willing to continue her attack.

"Not until you tell me what you were going to do." She threatened him, provocatively extending her fingers again to his sides... The masked duck unconsciously crawled back, raising his hands in surrender.

"It's ok, it's ok. I am waiting for a confirmation to be able to advance to our destination: St. Canard."

"St. Canard? I _know_ that place! That was where my grandfather worked before!" she exclaimed.

"There you will be completely saved from Taurus Bulba and if that bull comes up with the stupidity of appearing there to try to obtain the elixir formula, then I can take care of him." Darkwing added, rising heavily from the ground.

"I still _don't_ understand what that '_so-called-lord_' wants from me, I _don't_ know _anything_ about the elixir's formula!" Gosalyn said, sighing and lying on the narrow cot in the room. Darkwing twisted the gesture and patted her on the shoulder.

"Well, he thinks that somehow, you have the secret," Darkwing said, sitting next to her and starting to poke around in his pockets, under the curious gaze of the girl. Then he took out a daguerreotype and handed it to her: It was the same daguerreotype he had found in Professor Waddlemeyer's diary. Gosalyn looked at it with a sad smile. "...I'm very sorry, it looks like you were very close."

"We were." she murmured, still squeezing the picture between her little fingers. Darkwing noticed that small crystalline drops were forming on the girl's eyelids, something that made him feel as if he was pricked with a pin... Until that moment, he had been amazed that the red-haired duckling had accepted all this involuntary adventure with a lot of energy and enthusiasm; instead of crying in fear, she had followed him, she had helped and trusted him, a complete stranger... A complete stranger who had sought her for the benefit of his old glory; Thinking about it now, it made him feel disgusted with himself... If only that hand that now rested on her shoulder could slide to her cheek...

Dry knocks on the door interrupted him. Darkwing growled and headed for the door: The innkeeper looked at him as sourly as ever, somewhat jarring with the pancake plate full of honey to overflowing that he was carrying. "Your request, Mr. Darkwing," he announced under his breath. "Anything else you and your... ejem, companion want?" He added looking at the girl curled up in bed. Darkwing didn't miss the look of distaste that the badger gave the brunette girl, as if she was a particularly stubborn stain... Darkwing replied dryly:

"No. Thanks." And immediately closed the door with more force than necessary, feeling a strange satisfaction in having closed the door in his face.

"_Cool beans_, they finally arrived!" She said, rubbing her hands. "I haven't eaten pancakes since the grandfather left, when I tried to make them I did a mess and Mrs. Muddlefoot makes them with a lot of vinegar..." Then her gaze met Darkwing's, who had a small smile on his beak. "I told you that I would take a large piece of your order, whether you like it or not."

"Oh, I know, I know. Go ahead." Darkwing conceded, sitting next to her and harpooning a piece of pancake with another fork.

"_Sho_ we _whill_ _goh_ to St. _Cahnard tomorrowh_?" Gosalyn asked with her mouth so full of food that it was an achievement that she was able to utter a word. Darkwing looked at her reprovingly.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. Swallow and express again." He told her sternly. Gosalyn swallowed and twisted her mouth, mocking.

"Alright, alright... Not that you were my father or something…" she murmured, pricking a piece of the pancake again. "Will we go to St. Canard tomorrow? And then what will happen?"

"Well, if it turns out that Taurus Bulba is there, then it will be easier to defeat him, so perhaps my name is again in all the continent's gazettes."

"And if I help you beat him, I will become famous too, and with that, it will be much easier for a family to adopt me! Who knows, it could even be a family of scientists or inventors like grandfather! Wouldn't it be great?"

"Yeah... Yeah, that would be great," Darkwing murmured in a strange voice. After an awkward silence, he forced a smile. "Well, we better rest. A long day awaits tomorrow."

"I agree, but..." She looked on both sides of the cot, it was so narrow that it barely covered her. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm a night person!" You can sleep there, I'll be in... This sofa here!" He added pointing to the small cushion that was next to the shelf. He removed the plate and placed it on the bedside table, proceeding to turn off the gas lamps in the room, leaving only one lit, leaving the room in a faint and soft glow. "Good night, Gosalyn." And he was going to turn off the last lamp when..."

"...I _can't_ sleep!"

"Oh, I see," Darkwing muttered with a grimace in his beak. "Well, I have some chloroform somewhere, and, if it seems very strong, I also have a mallet around here that can serve..."

"Could you...? Could you... _sing_ something to me?" Gosalyn asked with a shy smile. Darkwing blinked, dumbfounded. "My grandpa... My grandpa used to sing me a lullaby during the nights. Even when I'm too big for lullabies, it was something of the two of us, you know…" She looked at him expectantly.

...Darkwing scratched the back of his neck, somewhat uncomfortable at the strange request. "Well, that will be a problem, because I... Well, I don't know any lullaby, I'm sorry..." Seeing, the disappointed face of the duckling that felt like another annoying prick, he came up with a idea: He walked away for a moment and taking the cushion where he had planned to sit down to sleep (The hunters watch, DON'T sleep), and approached it to one side of the cot: "Let's do this then: Why don't you sing your grandfather's song first and I'll sing it back to you?"

Gosalyn raised her eyebrows, looking at him incredulously: "This sounds a lot like those dirty mind games that teachers do at school when the students ignore them." She sighed and composed a smile. "...But well, if that is what you want..."

The girl's voice rose, singing the lyrics so many times repeated by her beloved grandfather for countless nights, that they had always wrapped her in a kind of warm invisible cocoon and that, in recent times it had been like a mantra to console herself when the pain was too strong and prevented her from sleeping. The melody bounced off the walls and in the attentive ears of the hunting duck, who didn't take his eyes off her at any time...

"**_Close your eyes, little girl blue,_**

**_**I**nside you lies a rainbow:_**

**_Yellow, blue, red, purple too,_**

**_blue, purple and green and yellow... "_**

Well, it wasn't exactly one of those delicious soprano voices from the Sistine chapel or other cathedrals that he had seen before, much less one of those haunting voices of sirens that he had fought with before... But Darkwing was really fascinated, supporting his elbows in bed and following the rhythm of the different colors of the song like a cobra before a flute, wanting to keep listening to her... Until her unusual silence ended her song... He felt disappointed and yearning to hear more...

"Well... _Your turn_."

"Oh, right, right." Darkwing said nervously, straightening and clearing his throat, opening his beak and taking a breath...

The following left Gosalyn simply speechless, feeling a tug inside her chest.

_**"Rest your little head, little girl blue.**_

_**Come paint your dreams on the pillow..."**_

Gosalyn didn't know if it was a mental trick to stun preys, but suddenly she felt Darkwing's hand slide down her neck, gently pushing her toward the thin pillow and she let herself go. It wasn't her grandpa's song, but... in those new and unknown lyrics she was feeling the _same_ warmth, the _same_ feeling, the same... _love_.

Her heart and in general all her interior _shuddered_ like a harp.

_**"I'll be near to chase away fear, so sleep and dream til tomorrow..."**_

She felt her eyes close at the soft tenor voice of the hunter duck, as if the lullaby was a warm blanket that covered her completely, inviting her to let herself go, certain that nothing bad would happen to her, that she wouldn't be more alone... That Darkwing would always be there, with her, protecting her. She smiled placidly when she felt the calloused fingers of the white mallard caress the red curls of her forehead, then slide down her cheek, leaving a sweet trace of warmth behind it, wishing that caress would never end... She curled up, leaving herself finally beaten by Morpheus, reaching the world of dreams where even the most unfortunate child is happy, guided and led by Darkwing's voice.

"_**...I'll be near to chase away fear, so sleep and dream til tomorrow..."**_ Darkwing whispered once more leaning forward, still staring at Gosalyn's face as she finally fell asleep; It was hard to believe that this girl was the same ball of spirit and energy that she was during the day... Now she looked so soft, so serene, so beautiful... He felt like he could stay there, watching her sleep and wouldn't need _anything_ else. He adjusted his head on the cot, always looking at the sweet face of the girl he had tripped over... And which would be undoubtedly hurtful to leave when all this nightmare finally ended...

...And then each one _would_ take their respective paths.

"...Good night, Gosalyn."

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note: **

**(1)** The creation of the refrigerator was the result of a series of innovations by chemists, engineers and inventors during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. American inventors Oliver Evans, Jacob Perkins and John Gorrie are credited with the development of the first versions of the modern refrigerator in the early 1800s. Later in that same century, the work of German engineer Carl von Linden allowed a chemical refrigerant to be Stored efficiently, paving the way for mass production of refrigerators.

**(2)** It was Joseph Henry who in 1829 built the first telegraph. However, the person who gave him great momentum was the American Samuel Morse (1791-1872), who invented a code that bears his name.

**(3)** Butyric acid is a monocarboxylic acid, mainly present in some fats. It is found in some fats in small amounts, such as butter. It was discovered in 1814 by Michel Eugène Chevreul. In concentrated state it has a strong smell of rancid butter.


	3. That burning puddle on the floor

**Warning: Implicit threat of sexual abuse.**

**Part Three: **

**That burning puddle on the floor.**

He saw them leave the pub. He remained hidden behind some branches when he saw them: The little hood _couldn't _completely _hide _the dark face and red hair, just as his master had instructed him how the girl looked... And more interestingly, her self-appointed escort and bodyguard Darkwing Duck. The mallard looked away as he led the red-haired girl to a ramshackle carriage of dark curtains and pulled by a single mule... Oh yes, his master was going to receive_ very good_ news when he went to see him. He opened his wings and disappeared into the violet shadows of the cold dawn.

* * *

Gosalyn yawned as she leaned her beak against the window frame of the carriage, watching the trees fall off in front of her in autumn. Despite the drowsiness, a smile hadn't left her lips since she had been awakened: She hadn't slept so _peacefully _since a _long _time, and she was sure why... And _that reason _was looking at the landscape on the other side of the carriage, watching the surroundings while they reached their destination. Despite the silence between them, this was a pleasant one. Although the girl would be jumping on Darkwing right now and asking him countless questions, right now she was mired in her own thoughts... about what had happened and what would happen next.

Gosalyn kept thinking about what would happen when the threat of Taurus Bulba ended. No doubt she would become famous and some family _would _adopt her, _finally _ending her painful cycle of being alone or at times accompanied by neighbors for sheer pity. It would be something fantastic, something she was craving with all her heart since her grandpa had left this world (_and _her), _but _now...

She now looked at that eccentric but reliable hunter mallard who had been by her side all that time. Despite he being a stranger who she had little time to meet, she had _felt _a warmth with him that she didn't think she would feel again with _someone _other than her beloved grandpa. He had accepted her games, her jokes... He sang her a lullaby when she had asked him. His beautiful words still felt fresh in her memory and every time she repeated them, her heart _shuddered _again the _same _way it did the first time, accompanied by a warmth that wrapped her despite the cold of the carriage... What could that mean?

She looked at him sideways, opening her beak to tell him something... Without knowing what to say exactly.

"Darkwing..."

"Hummm?"

"What will you do after you defeat Taurus Bulba?"

Darkwing looked at her. "...Good question. Well, the first thing would be to make sure you're going to be fine in a good place and then... I guess I'll wait for some king or important person to call me on a mission... I don't know, it all depends on how everything develops."

"I see... And thanks for taking so much trouble for me," Gosalyn murmured, looking at him sideways, sketching a smile. Darkwing handed it back.

"Nah, it's a pleasure. You had been... A very _interesting _company, little miss." Darkwing said, bowing slightly with his hat, making her laugh.

"Likewise, my good sir. I would like... because _now _we are friends, that we continue seeing each other when I have settled in my future new home." She murmured, barely noticing the desire of her voice to say those words, looking at him expectantly. Darkwing blinked for a moment and then smiled.

"..._Sure _thing. It would be very rude of me to disappear as if nothing and just like that after all this adventure; I can disappear when I wanted to, of course... but I would _really _like to keep seeing you, Gos... If you wish, of course."

Gosalyn smiled broadly and nodded, wishing she could say more, be able to say what at that moment her interior was wishing to let him know... But she couldn't. She looked back at the window, looking at the dawn sun, thinking of the nickname he just gave her apparently without realizing it... _"How good it sounds when he says it."_

* * *

Although the trip to St. Canard wasn't exactly long, and against his very vigilant nature, the hunter duck found himself nodding against his supported palm, to the point of not remembering exactly when he began to sleep...

...But what he did realize was, in the middle of the dense darkness caused by deep dreams, he heard a voice. That thick and cruel voice that rang in his ears. A hard voice that froze the bones. The voice that someone in all his years of experience would describe without fear as a voice that _wasn't _human, that _wasn't _normal... a voice of a _vampire_.

**_"I know you hear me, hunter. I know who you are. I know what you pretend to do. I know where you're going."  
_**

He had circled around the darkness, keeping his eyes wide open, trying to see something. The voice, terrible, cruel, echoed louder and louder. Invisible to his eyes but close in his ears and nerves.

"**_You cannot always protect her, duck; your meager forces and your weapons are useless against me. You will fail in your self-imposed mission and the fruits of your failure will be to see how those cute green eyes of hers shut down in front of you, how she drowns in blood while she is devoured... Although you have seen death and blood so many times before, I'm sure you don't want that precious blood of hers to be shed for me."_**

"...What do you want?" Darkwing asked quietly, clenching his teeth as he tried not to let the horrible image that the infernal being was trying to implant in his head take hold of him and make him enter in panic. The voice rumbled around him in an intense, cold, sadistic laugh.

**_"You know what I want, hunter. And don't worry, I'll tell you personally when we see each other there... I can't wait."  
_**

"And I _can't _wait to blow your head with a shotgun," the hunter duck growled trying to wake up from that dream... Without success. More laughter was heard, enraging the white mallard. What did the vampire want? Play more tricks in his mind? Suddenly fear and panic seized him upon hearing a new voice that was heard right behind him. They were weak groans of pain that pierced his spine. "Gosalyn... Gosalyn?!" He turned around, still not seeing anything around him, still hearing the laughter of the vampire lord mocking him, still hearing the weak cries of help from the red-haired duckling... He had to find her, he had to help her... The words _"You can't always protect her, duck"_ drilled his head without mercy. This had to end now! It was just a dream, an evil illusion made by the enemy!

**_"What's wrong, hunter? Can't you find her? Don't you know how to track even in the dark?"  
_**

_"Darkwing! Darkwing! Help me...!"  
_

**_"Do you hear her, hunter? She is suffering... Oh, so much suffering... It's beautiful..."  
_**

_"NO, I can't anymore! Darkwing...! Where are you...?! Please help...!"  
_

**_"Poor thing, she's suffering, she's dying... Oh, I wonder if she's still edible when they're done with her..."  
_**

"SHUT UP! YOU ARE NOT REAL! YOU ARE NOT REAL!"

**_"Who are you telling that, duck? To me or to that poor soul who is been tortured right now without you being able to do anything to help her?"  
_**

"SHUT UP!"

_"¡DARKWING...!"  
_  
"¡GOSALYN...!"

"Darkwing...! DARKWING,_ wake up!_" A stream of water fell on his face, making him sputter between coughs and some slight curses, then he saw Gosalyn's dismayed expression in front of him, pale as wax, still holding a pitcher of pewter, before full of water. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Ah! Gosalyn! You're ok?"

"_Don't _ignore my question!" She snapped at him angrily. "You fell asleep and then you were almost shrieking like a condemned! What happened?!"

Darkwing was breathing heavily, still staring at her green eyes, sparking with fear and worry... He closed his eyes for a moment to normalize his runaway breathing and his mad heartbeat. It was a dream, he repeated to himself, it was just a dream... But he knew it, deep down he knew that it hadn't been a dream. The experienced hunter inside him was already seriously informing him: _"Vampires can get into the dreams and thoughts of their targets, just when they are most vulnerable, to try to control them... or give them a message, as evidently in this case The million dollar question is: What will you do with this message, Darkwing?"_

He clenched his teeth. An colossal headache was beginning to form in him... And more with that girl on top of him almost shaking him and bombarding him with questions... In the end he _couldn't _take it anymore and grabbed her by the beak with one hand, shutting her up.

"Can you please close your mouth for a moment? I _need _to think." Darkwing snapped at her sharply, something that the red-haired duckling didn't take in a good way, releasing herself from his grip and glaring at him.

"Oh excuse me, I _should _have left you there and that you keep shouting and twisting." Gosalyn said sarcastically, crossing her arms. "Sorry for _mess _your moment of fun."

"Gosalyn, it's _not _that!"

"So _what _is it?! _Don't _expect that after that I act as if nothing happened, more when you were screaming _MY name_!" She exclaimed. Seeing that the adult duck just stared at her without speaking, she snorted and walked away from him. "Fine, if you don't want to tell me, then I will assume the worst... When you _stop _acting like a child, let me know." Gosalyn said angrily, sitting back in her corner, moving as far away from him as possible, frowning.

Darkwing tried to say something, but anger also seized him. He was just trying to protect her, goddammit, avoiding let her know something that could affect her! _Why _she have to know?! That was his business and that was it, _period_! She was just a spectator of all this, just a girl who was in the middle of all this for no reason! This was between Taurus Bulba and him, nobody else! Snorting angrily, the hunter duck looked back at the carriage window, still feeling his feathers stir in rage... rage against the _annoying _presence of his nightmare to which he was already dying to put a bullet in the head to stop fucking his existence.

**o.o.o**

They arrive at St. Canard at the beginning of the afternoon. Gosalyn looks around, trying to remember the small and fortified metropolis she had visited a few times before in the company of her grandpa when one of his colleagues called him for something. The outer walls that protected it (in theory) were still full of mold and lichen due to the constant presence of bodies of water around, making the city look like an islet in the middle of the swamps. She knew that was a city versed in science, technology and, as she had guessed, also in the hunt for monsters and vampires.

She would have liked to explore more, keep looking for traces of her childhood with Grandpa Waddlemeyer in this place, but her stern companion had other plans: Darkwing had grabbed her wrist to lead her in another direction. She didn't protest and let herself be dragged, still feeling very angry with him for his silence and lack of trust towards her. Before she knew it they were at another inn overlooking the city center, where the tallest tower was seen.

"I'll need you to stay here while I get in touch with S.H.U.S.H... It's only going to be a moment, I'll be back before you know it," Darkwing said distractedly as he rummaged through his pockets, taking out curious things like light bulbs and smoke bombs. Gosalyn looked at him unfathomably. The hunter duck stopped at the door frame and cast a trembling look at the girl who had stared at the window, still _hurt_, still _upset_... He opened his beak to tell her something... But he pressed his lips and left, cursing to himself in his mind.

* * *

Gosalyn stood in the window with her head in her hands, watching the sky change to a dark red with violet. She tried to see any purple and pink shadow between the rooftops that were in front of her, gradually falling into a contemplative dream... It was very likely that at the end of the day she _would _end up alone again, waiting for a family that would love her despite her spirit... Although a voice inside her kept repeating that it wasn't going to happen: If even after six months being alone and _no one_ had take in her yet... What made her think that now would happen? The only certainty was that when everything was over, Darkwing would leave her as she was at the beginning: _Alone_.

"Oh, grandpa... How much I miss you," she murmured to herself, hugging herself, contemplating the lonely but shining star that was in the sky _("It's the planet Venus, mijita. It's always the brightest one at sunrise and sunset." _Grandpa told her once while they're playing with a telescope.) "...I wish you were here. I need your advice: I think... I think I messed it again with someone... What's the use of this 'spirit' that I have if that made others be away...?"

"I will tell you that spirit of yours can be useful to the master!"

Gosalyn shouted and backed away when she saw the horrible face of the goat in front of her, noticing in horror that he had climbed the roof and now intended to enter where she was. She looked frantically around her as if she were looking for some way out... then she looked fiercely at the intruder: "Well, try it!" She exclaimed taking a vase and throwing it accurately as a baseball player, hitting the goat's forehead, stunning him. She took the moment to go out into the lobby, noting that all the doors were closed. She tried to knock on the door to several but none deigned to open it._ "They don't even care that there is a child in danger."_ she thought desperately. Then she rushed to the stairs, realizing that in the middle of the steps was another of Taurus Bulba's thugs; Gosalyn then noticed the railing of the stairs, riding on it and sliding down, mocking the thug in his own noses.

She had a chance. If she could go out and run to the place where Darkwing had gone (Although to her despair she realized that he hadn't told her), she could be safe ... She left the pub heading north, looking sideways behind her. : They were right behind her... She smiled: She could make fun of them. She could escape, she could...

"Aaaaah, let go of me, let go of me!" She screamed, twisting between the claws of a huge vulture that had caught her from behind without her noticing. She panicked to see how she was rising in the air, unable to escape. Where would they take her? _"I should have eaten a clove of garlic this morning._" she thought apprehensively.

* * *

He _kept _waiting. Neither the agents of the supernatural guild with whom he had worked in the past, S.H.U.S.H., deigned to appear yet. He felt increasingly irritated, especially when he noticed that the minutes passed and nobody appeared. He really hated arriving early! He looked anxiously at a clock that was near there, showing that they had spent 30 minutes standing there... 30 minutes ago he had left Gosalyn alone, which he had long since regretted. An annoying feeling of restlessness made his feathers bristle again... Something _wasn't _right here.

...And soon he realized: A winged and dark figure was hovering nearby, carrying something small in its claws that struggled to escape... Something that had intense red hair that flamed in the dark. His eyes widened, his heart skipped a beat and his soul went to his feet.

"Gosalyn!" He exclaimed trying to get closer. Just what he had feared had happened. What he had tried to avoid... Without thinking, he launched himself in pursuit of the bird and his hostage, using his hooks to move between the roofs. He hid behind the chimney of a factory, noting that the vulture was carrying the red-haired girl no less than the tallest tower in St. Canard, where, as far as he knew, it was unoccupied... He pulled out a brass spyglass so he could see them better: He could see Gosalyn's terrified face, trying to get away from the vulture's grip unsuccessfully... Despair and fear shone in her green eyes. That image _burned _the mind of the hunter duck like a bonfire.

He clenched his teeth: He had promised her that he would be near to chase away fear, that he would defeat Taurus Bulba and that at last this despair would end... He _had _to do something. But _not _because of the desire for fame and recognition... He had to do it for _them_. For the memory of Grandpa Waddlemeyer so that he could rest in peace... For Gosalyn so that she could continue to enlighten the world with her spirit... So he could _keep _looking her in the eyes and notice that everyone else was empty.

He emptied his pockets, making a quick count of his weapons. He had his faithful guns. A pair of blades. Half a dozen smoke bombs and several bulbs filled with corrosive and dangerous chemicals, only for extreme cases... It wasn't the complete equipment to confront a vampire lord safely... But he didn't have time to resupply... Hell, he was NOT a _fucking rookie _against his first monster alone, it was Darkwing Duck, a legendary hunter, the terror that flaps in the night! Didn't he usually refer to his past victories constantly in his monologues!? Well, it was time to repeat that, to demonstrate those past glories.

It was time to _get dangerous. _

* * *

She couldn't see at first what was around her, for the darkness was quite dense... But she knew that she wasn't alone. By sharpening the ear she could catch some noises near her... Not to mention a deep, heavy breath, no doubt coming from someone five times larger than her, also quite close to her personal space.

...It must be him. The one who had ruined her life several months ago and had condemned her by taking away the last loved one she had left. She held back the urge to scream, twisting her body like a worm about to be stuck in a hook.

"Oh, Gosalyn... You finally honor us with your lovely presence. I have to say frankly, you have caused quite a lot of problems." The girl was petrified when she heard that voice. She opened her eyes even more, trying to see him... Until she could see a pair of long bull horns emerge from the darkness... Gosalyn swallowed. At last she could see him: It was a huge bull with dark fur and a huge body that looked at her with a wry smile, like a child seeing a helpless turtle being tortured... And there was no doubt that they would play with her the same or worse shape. She tried not to shake, not to _let _him know that she was afraid... Taurus Bulba raised his eyebrows: "Ah, you _shouldn't _fear, little girl. If you are useful to me, unlike your grandfather, then everything will work out... well for you: Do you see that table over there? There are the ingredients of the elixir of invulnerability... You better talk, you wouldn't want to fail me like old Waddlemeyer did, would you?"

Gosalyn felt her heart tear apart as the bull mentioned Grandpa so indifferently, reminding her for the umpteenth time how she had found him, with a broken neck, at the foot of the stairs... She clenched her fists, the only movement she could make while still in the grip of the vulture, staring at where the vampire bull pointed out: A stone ledge with several glass glasses filled with liquids of different colors... She closed her eyes: "I don't know, I never saw grandpa mix them, I don't know, I don't know..."

A tremendous slap made her open her eyes again. Taurus Bulba had his hoof raised, and then he hit her hard on the cheek, scratching her deeply. Gosalyn made an effort to let out no sound of pain... She _couldn't _cry, she _couldn't _cry... If she did he might do something worse to her.

"You're very bad lying, kid... And I hate being lied to. There is no way that old Waddlemeyer hasn't died without having passed the secret code to you. So spit it out NOW!"

"I don't know, I swear that I don't know!" Gosalyn exclaimed feeling suddenly that the vulture that was holding her was tightening her grip on her more and more, crushing her and pressing her lungs, costing her to breathe... "Please, I swear I don't know, let me go...!"

The bull snorted and snorted angrily, seeing himself for a moment that he was going to kill her right there out of frustration... Gosalyn closed her eyes again, preparing for the worst (and final) blow... when a new voice flooded the chamber.

_"I am the terror that flaps in the night...!"  
_

"Where the hell is that voice coming from?" Hammerhead Hannigan exclaimed, pointing his gun in all directions. Suddenly a volute of purple smoke was seen on the ledge of one of the stone windows. The goat and the other vampire pawns responded by shooting at the cloud... Then see what was behind it there was no one.

_"...I'm the garlic clove that gets stuck in your throat...!"  
_

Gosalyn could barely breathe, not only because of the cruel pressure that the vulture's claws on her, but also because of the voice... Had he _really _come? Suddenly a blade flew in the direction of Taurus Bulba's throat, which deflected him at the last second with a swipe of his hoof. A figure landed on the ground with his icy blue eyes staring at Gosalyn... Making a smile of relief in the duckling's face... _But _then the vampire bull burst out laughing.

"...At last our pleasant evening is _complete_. I wondered when he would finally deign to appear... Mr. Darkwing Duck. _Did _you come to _play _as the hero?"

The white mallard's face also emerged from the darkness. His blue eyes were bright and hard as diamonds, almost dropping sparks, without taking them away from his opponent. The difference in size was very _noticeable_, without a doubt the bull could take the duck between his hooves and put it in the pocket of his red suit without any problem... But the duck didn't recoil, holding his gun.

"She is right, Bulba. She has _no idea_ of the composition of the elixir."

"_Bullshit! _She knows, I'm sure she knows... And I'm going to tear the secret out with bites from her if necessary...! " The bull exclaimed angrily, gripping the girl's face tightly between his hooves tightly, making her groaning in pain... The girl opened her mouth as if to say something. Darkwing hastened to say:

"_Don't _tell him, Gos! _No _matter what he do, your life is more important than elixir and of course _much more_ important than mine! I will go to the grave with the secret!"

A silence of three seconds followed. Gosalyn stared at him with wide, petrified eyes... Taurus Bulba also looked at him, breathing stony... Then he gave a very cruel smile.

"Definitely, I'm_ very good_ gambling... Only I was doing it the wrong way." He snapped his fingers, making the vulture flutter toward the ledge, with screamings from Gosalyn. Darkwing was horrified, that wasn't how his plan was supposed to be executed! He glared at the vampire bull, demanding that he let her go. The bull laughed at him: "Tell me the code of the elixir and I'll let it go... And _no tricks_ or she will become a _horrible _stain when she hits the ground!" He threatened harshly.

The masked duck narrowed his eyes... There was _no _choice. He looked down for a moment and then gave him a dry nod. The bull smiled and with his arm made a theatrical gesture towards the table where the colored chemists were waiting. The hunter duck advanced there, seeing with the corner of his eye the petrified expression of the girl, still trapped.

He had realized the pattern at the time he had seen the damned containers on the stone table. Oh, how much he would have wished to throw his flying dagger toward the table instead of Taurus Bulba's throat to destroy that hellish invention... And seeing it made him _noticing _it. And the _realization _was like if a pack of panicked elephants hit him: All the colors were there: Yellow, blue, purple, red, green... "_Yellow, blue, red, blue, purple, blue, purple, green and yellow... It's Gosalyn's grandfather's song! It's the code, and she always had it without knowing it!" _He couldn't believe it... And now the situation had been twisted... He approached the containers and began to pour them in the correct order. He couldn't make a mistake because he didn't know that that could mean some explosion or made Taurus Bulba would retaliate... And whatever that could happen with Gosalyn still in the middle of crossfire was the worst prospect... He completed the last mix, making the cauldron he had used to mix each of the glass ampoules will glow bright red. Taurus Bulba let out a shout of victory that echoed throughout the room.

"At last! I _finally _have it in my hands!"

"_Yes, yes, yes_, you already have it, so you can now compensate your inferiority complex." Darkwing snapped impatiently. "Now bring her down!"

"Oh, of course. I'm a man of word: I'll bring her down… _Now_." He snapped his fingers, causing the vulture to flutter toward the edge of the ledge… And he let her fall into the void.

"NO!" Darkwing reacted immediately, hitting the bull in the stomach with all his might, stunning him for a moment, then throwing a dagger that flew towards the vulture, hitting him in the back and knocking him down between shrieks, then running as deranged until the ledge and take out his hook gun, throwing it towards Gosalyn, grabbing her at the last moment before crashing into the tower floor. It was only an instant, but seeing her hanging a few feet off the floor was enough to feel again that he could breathe again... The girl smiled at him.

"Well caught, I had already begun to worry... Now smash him!" She yelled, letting herself of from the hook and landing cleanly on the floor. Darkwing nodded and turned around, only to throw a smoke bomb to disappear just in the second that a shower of bullets fell on him.

"Where did he go?!" The bull roared, looking around. Until another volute of smoke, this time on the stone table, appeared.

"I am the terror that flaps in the night. I'm the sunbeam that _burns _your eyes... I'm Darkwing Duck!" exclaimed the masked duck kicking the cauldron, causing all the elixir to spill on the ground. Taurus Bulba let out a horrible shriek.

"You'll _pay _for this, disguised clown!"

"Oh, but don't cry for the spilled milk, Bulba," Darkwing replied, shrugging, searching his coat and taking out a glass vial. "Hmmmm... I _wonder _what will happen if I accidentally drop this specimen of chlorine trifluoride** (1)** that I kept for a _special _ocassion..." At his words, both Bulba and his minions backed away. The bull snorted.

"You're bluffing. You _wouldn't _be able to throw that. You would _die _too."

"Are you challenging me, Bulba? Not that you were a great gambler man? "Before the silence of the bull, the hunter duck sighed: "I imagined it. Well, too bad I won't see those headings when they appear. Maybe Gosalyn does."

And he dropped the vial in the puddle of the elixir.

* * *

Outside, in the midst of a horrified crowd that had gathered before the tower of St. Canard, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer struggled with a couple of policemen because she was fiercely determined to enter the tower. Among the shouts of the police and the people gathered, the protests of the red-haired duckling were heard:

"Smoke is coming out of the tower, there is someone in there!"

"I saw how this girl fell from the tower and someone threw a hook!"

"Miss, control yourself, you cannot enter there!"

"Bullshit, my friend is in there, I must see him! Take your hands off me!

"Somebody control that girl!"

"Look there!" Someone shouted, pointing to the highest point of the tower, which began to burn intensely, covering the entire roof in a red and yellow ball of blinding light... After a few distressing seconds, an explosion blew away the crystals and pieces of concrete around...

"No! No... It can't be...!" Gosalyn groaned, getting petrified in the hands of the policemen, forgetting to fight to get rid of them, feeling her eyes gradually fill with tears when she saw the cloud of fire engulfing the top of the tower... Without any sign of the hunter duck.

She was alone again.

**o.o.o**

Gosalyn felt as if the following days had passed in another life, in which she barely remembered participating, but she remembered with _painful _lucidity that all situations were each more painful than the other.

She was dragged away from the fire in the tower and from the disturbed crowd, without fighting or resisting, her eyes blurred by tears. She had been taken to the nearest police station where she was interrogated about her knowledge or participation in the fire. Seeing that the girl refused to answer the questions, they had proceeded to '_persuade her'_ with buckets of ice water and slaps, even one of the uniformed men threatened her to tear her clothes and leave her tied and naked there in the chair, followed by the words of _"Do you know what they sometimes do to women who don't want to cooperate, little one...?"_, what made her talk... Well, omitting several details, including about the masked duck with whom they had seen her enter in the city hours before the explosion in the tower, leaving at the end with the impression that he had been a kidnapper _than _a bodyguard... At the end of the interrogation, the policemen had in front of a red-haired brunette duckling that seemed locked in her own world, her eyes flushed and her cheeks damp... as if nothing really mattered anymore. As if with the death of her '_abductor_' a part of her had died too... They had no idea what to do with her.

...In the end they had sent her to a convent in the city, closing the heavy doors behind the inconsolable Gosalyn, who was preparing herself to live what would appear to be an _eternal winter.  
_

At first the nuns had sympathized with the poor girl who had arrived there at night with sunken eyes and mouth clenched, without deigning to look at the Mother Superior who had come to meet her at the door. They only managed to rip out from her that her name was Gosalyn Wadlemeyer, that her grandfather had been killed by vampires and her protector had died to protect her from the above-mentioned vampires... The nuns whispered among them when they heard her brief story:_ "Poor girl, maybe she is delirious..." "The police said that he had kidnapped her, so perhaps she is confusing that man who abducted her as her protector, we must guide her to the healing of God..."_ Gosalyn listened to them but didn't feel like contradicting them, she felt without forces... She just wanted to lay her head on a pillow and, perhaps, the next day, everything would be as before, with her grandpa smiling at her by showing her a new invention... with Darkwing asking her to accompany her on some exciting adventure, surrounded by the love she once had.

...But in that early morning, the silent red-haired girl had woken between screams and in tears, screaming for her grandfather, for "_Darkwing"_, for someone who _loved _her... The half dozen girls (orphans and alone like her) whom slept in the same community cell had grabbed her to try to keep her still, until the Mother Superior had entered the middle of the uproar with a cloth impregnated with chloroform that pressed hard against the small peak of the girl, making her faint in the bed. Since then they assigned a nun to watch her during the nights, urging her to pray for repentance and peace... often encountering a surly silence from the red-haired duckling. Nothing was going to bring her peace again, nothing would bring her happiness... _Everyone _was leaving her in some way: Her parents, her dear grandfather... and now Darkwing, and with him, the last chance for her to be happy had been consumed in the fire.

Between silent tears as she snuggled like a little ball in the narrow cot where she had been assigned, she had reached that grim conclusion: Yes, it was better to be alone, so she wouldn't have to go through that unbearable pain again. It was the best for everyone.

The days passed with insulting slowness, gradually becoming weeks. Gosalyn had become accustomed to the daily routine of the convent-orphanage, between the three meals a day (a sad porridge and loaves of rye bread), cleaning the silent halls and prayers here and there... Although to tell the truth she was in a mixture of moments of almost absolute lethargy and destructive energy, all without order or concert. Sometimes she could curl up on the cot for hours or be running all over the place causing problems in her path, to the dismay of the nuns. She had no friends in the convent. No one could keep up with her, and nobody wanted to talk to her.. She was standing out badly there with her dark feathers and deep red hair among all those white feathers and "_common_" hair of the others. She was the strange one, the problem girl, the one who had come to that city being dragged by a kind of perverted abductor and who had left her alone and disturbed after his violent death in the tower of St. Canard. She had become a kind of wandering kitten that lurks around without an owner and that no one wants her there.

Most of the nuns tried to avoid her, especially when, after the second week of her stay there, the Mother Superior had called her to her office to _"take that color of Satan off from her head"_, as the nun explicitly said when touching her red hair and trying to put a mixture of bleach with other chemicals in order to 'lighten' her hair, something that Gosalyn avoided by dumping the container away from her with a swipe and yelling in anger to not bring that disgusting thing to her... One more word and Gosalyn would have been tied to a bed to throw that infernal liquid over her or rather to call a priest to 'exorcise her'... That way she stayed at recess in a corner of the courtyard of the convent, surly and grumpy, _drowning _herself in her own pain.

The only person still trying to talk to her was the nun in charge of the girls in her pavilion, Sister Cavanaugh. She was a plump chicken with severe gestures but she tried to listen to the girls when they wanted to tell her something. When the one in charge of watching Gosalyn's dream got fed up with her and left her, Sister Cavanaugh offered to watch her, in order to try to talk to the problematic girl and try to understand what was happening to her. Although Gosalyn had initially refused, in the end she found some relief when talking to the nun, especially about that man with purple cape and mask, the one who had saved her, had protected her and made her feel that she was _loved _for _someone _again... Despite others saw him in the _darkest _and _sinister _colors possible.

"Gosalyn, from what you tell me you have been through a _lot _before, but your life is not over yet, you are still alive by the grace of the Lord... Don0t you think it would be better for you to show some spirit to some possible adoptive parents...?" Sister Cavanaugh said shyly... Gosalyn snorted.

"_Spirit_, that word make me _sick off._ it has only brought me misfortunes." She curled up on the cot where she had been lying for much of the afternoon. "...And nobody will adopt me: I'm nothing but trouble for anyone who loved me... And the only person who wanted me to adopt me will no longer be able to." She turned to the other in bed, cutting off the conversation. Sister Cavanaugh reached out to stroke her red hair in an attempt to convey comfort; although Gosalyn felt _nothing _with this caress, she closed her eyes, _imagining _that those fingers were her grandpa's ink-stained fingers or Darkwing's calloused fingers, making her smile faintly.

It was only a matter of time for the nuns to get fed up with her completely and, seeing that the attempts to take the habits and seek comfort in God did not work, they would send her as a maid to some house of the rich where she will most likely end up escaping and in the street as a wanderer, a thief _or _a child prostitute... or maybe she ends up being sold to a Workhouse **(2)** where she may die the first day from a machine accident or end up half an idiot for after a lot of precarious and inhuman work, ending being thrown at a stinky pit... Gosalyn really liked horror stories with macabre scenes, but this was definitely not her favorite.

**o.o.o**

It happened after a little more than a month later. Gosalyn was making an attempt to sweep the floor of the convent bell tower. I said "attempt" because it wasn't that the red-haired duckling didn't want to do it, but that the broom they had given her was a wet and almost rotten stick that disarmed only at every moment. It would have been even more fun to play that it was a sword and hit the first unsuspecting one with which she crossed... In fact she was already making movements with the stick as if she was going to hit an imaginary ball... _Almost _hitting Sister Cavanaugh in the shin when she came running to where she was.

"...I will _ignore _that I saw you doing that." The nun hen said while gave Gosalyn a stern look. "But the Mother Superior sent me to look for you... No, it's not because of the... ejem, incident with your hair." She added carelessly before the girl's eyebrow arch. The nun cleared her throat and continued solemnly: "...A gentleman came and asked for you."

"Of course, that will be the backstory about how they sent me to the glue factory to get rid of me." Gosalyn thought bitterly. She simply asked indifferently: "Oh yes? Did he tell you his name and why did he ask for me?"

"Well, I didn't get his name, but I think I understood as _'Allard' _or _'Kallard'_... I don't remember well, but you _must _come: The Mother Superior has demanded it."

"Okay, whatever. Let's get this over with quickly." Gosalyn said dropping the moldy stick and following the nun, still thinking… Did a man come for her? Well, she had to admit that she made a good scandal on the day of the explosion, perhaps one of those lords ended up liking her and now that lord would like her as a maid or, as she had crudely heard one of her companions, as a _"master's potty" _**(3)** ...Or maybe it could be one of her grampa's colleague? No doubt it would be too much to ask for her shitty luck... She thought of several possibilities until they reached the antechamber of the Mother Superior's office, where Sister Cavanaugh had asked Gosalyn to wait a moment... Although the girl obviously waited for the nun hen to disappear to open the door slightly and spy through a crack as her next "_torturer_" will look.

In front of the Mother Superior there was a very wounded mallard duck, with bandages on his head, an arm and a leg, so he leaned on a cane. He was so incredibly _similar _to her lost Darkwing that for a moment she lost herself in her memories. She sharpened her ear, at that moment hearing that the nun was apparently trying to dissuade the adult duck from his request: "I have to tell you, my good sir, but Gosalyn is not... The best-behaved girl here. If you want to know my opinion, she's is a lost case. You may want to see some of our other girls, they are more educated than her..."

Gosalyn clenched her teeth, regretting that she had missed the trajectory and NOT having thrown the bleach on the nun's head... At that moment, the male duck spoke. And he made Gosalyn's heart almost stop by his voice: "I appreciate your good intentions, Sister Tremaine, but I have already made my decision. I _need _a partner with the energy and spirit that she has to spare... It would be like _throwing a grapefruit to my face_ like a badminton ball." ...And then he turned his head to see Gosalyn's dismayed face as if he had detected her since before... For a thousandth of a second, her green eyes anxiously scanned the soul that hid behind his ice blue eyes... And suddenly, using his unharmed hand, he slipped the bandage of his head over his eyes, giving her the illusion of wearing... A _mask_.

Gosalyn had no idea when she walked again, she just knew that she had opened the door completely with a jerk... "Well, if you're looking for an energetic girl, I _suppose _it would be... Oh, Gosalyn!" The Mother Superior exclaimed when she saw the girl running towards them, although she stopped abruptly, without stopping looking at the white mallard who was looking at her with a sufficiency smirk… The nun cleared her throat and added harshly: "_Don't _be rude and introduce yourself, girl!

"I... I..." She began to stutter, trying to fight the burning tears that threatened to spurt out. "I'm Gosalyn Waddlemeyer, to-to serve you." She added making a_ very clumsy_ bow. The nun made a facepalm in a resigned gesture... The white mallard's smile grew wider, baffling the red-haired duckling: Since his grandfather she hadn't _seen _anyone _smile _at her antics.

"It's a pleasure, little missy. You can call me Mr. Mallard..." And taking her little hand between his wide and calloused fingered hand, something VERY inconsistent with his elegant purple clothes, the man kissed her hand with a remarkable devotion for someone like her in those times, adding a whisper that only she could hear: "But you can also call me Drake."

Gosalyn blinked several times, her eyes glistening with tears and her voice came out hoarse: "Nice to meet you... Drake." And she shook his hand tightly, to the horror of the nuns present.

"Gosalyn, what kind of manners are those!?" But Drake Mallard giggled.

"No worries, Sister Tremaine... I'll take care of her and the discipline. Spirited children must be very busy. Now dear, we must go, the coachman awaits us."

"Oh, right, right," she exclaimed, getting carried away by the bandaged duck towards the exit. Gosalyn turned to see the nuns, with the mother superior with a severe expression and Sister Cavanaugh somewhat worried, perhaps sensing that it would be the last time she would see Gosalyn.

And indeed, it was.

* * *

"_Auch_, watch the ribs, kid!"

"I can't believe it!" Gosalyn exclaimed, on the verge of crying, smiling for the first time in that month (and it showed, because she felt the muscles of her beak somewhat stiff), squeezing the white mallard's neck while she was wrapped in an ardent and fierce hug by Drake Mallard... Or _rather _Darkwing Duck.

The white duck had said sternly farewell to the nuns, giving the impression that he was a dour man... But at the moment when the curtains of the carriage that was parked outside the convent-orphanage covered the inside completely, the red-haired girl threw herself happily into the hunter's arms, who returned the gesture with the same _fervour_, despite the whistles of pain from his multiple wounds. She looked him up and down, as if it was the first time she saw him... And it was the_ first time _she saw him without the mask! He had taken it off for her... And he had even given her his real name! What a major leagues of luck she had!

"I can't believe you _came _back for me... You _really _know how to do a dramatic performance, you left me speechless!" She continued laughing, wiping her eyes, although there were still tears coming out... Although then the hunter stopped smiling, looking very serious.

"It _wasn't _a performance, kiddo. I know you said before you wanted us to keep seeing each other because we were already friends... Well, if I'm honest, I want more than that." Drake looked at her beautiful green eyes, which shone like gems… "Gos, dear Gos" he continued in an affectionate voice that would never _match _the adoration he felt for her. "...I _need _you to be here, _with _me, for the most _vilely selfish _reason imaginable: who's going to control me if you're not here?" And no worries, _I'll _be more careful in the future, now that I have a daughter to take care of so she doesn't trip when she accompanies me." He added stroking her cheek with his unharmed hand with a crooked smile. Tears sprang back from Gosalyn's eyes, who, unable to say anything else, buried her head in his chest. She would have screamed in joy, but she couldn't say anything in the warmth of the feeling of relief and bliss that infected every cell in her body... And the same could be said for Darkwing... no, no, for Drake: Hugging her and stroking her back and hair with a love and affection so fierce and intense that, in the eyes of the world outside that little carriage, it would have been seen as something _extremely improper_... But for both of them nothing else mattered.

All that mattered was that they were together again and even better! Now they were a family, _small _and made of _broken _parts, it's true... But that wasn't bad: It just had more _spirit_.

**TBC**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**(1)** Chlorine trifluoride is an interhalogen compound. It is a colorless and toxic, corrosive and extremely reactive gas that condenses into a pale greenish-yellow liquid. It's considered the most flammable chemical on earth, being able to burn up to 12 centimeters of concrete and 1 meter of sand.

**(2)** A Workhouse was a place where poor people who had no place to live could go to live and work. It was also used for working children, sometimes up to 18-hour shifts a day, and even more. Many working-class children died there or in the mines throughout the Industrial Revolution, between the 18th and 19th centuries.

**(3)** The _"master's potty" _ (_"pissepots de nos maris"_ in French, where it was widely used) was an offensive nickname with which they were called to the maids who should be available of the master (in regards to his sexual desires) all night in his room, as if they were an urinal.


	4. That mixture of wine and blood

**Trigger warning: Very gruesome themes. Attempted rape against an underage character. ****Racists expressions. ****Violence and gore in several parts.**

**You have been _warned_.**

**Part four: **

**That mixture of wine and blood.**

Darkwing was _dying _to stretch, but he had to _restrain _himself for several reasons: If he did it was quite likely that he was going to get entangled with the loose knots of that hammock where he had slept (Although he was sure that it was rather an old fishing net than a hammock...) and they would go to the ground... And we're speaking in the plural, because since they had boarded, he had Gosalyn curled up like a little ball in his chest. Despite the annoying feeling of having the muscles numb without being able to move, he smiled slightly when she saw the noisy girl snore with a similar slight smile.

They had departed from the coast of Marseille to be able to reach the coast of Tunisia in order to meet some acquaintances of the hunter duck, Chip and Dale, two brother squirrels specialized in treasure hunts, whom had written to the white mallard to helping them in an interesting mission. _"The Swift Maiden"_, a medium-sized ship with three masts, was taking them through the rough seas of the Mediterranean... Although it had cost them to get there, and the worst thing is that it wasn't for the money, but something more unpleasant:

_"I have no problem taking you to Tunisia, Mr. Darkwing, since we plan to get there, but..."_

_"What? What's the problem?" Darkwing asked impatiently to see that the sailor was hesitant to continue… And then the guy took a significant look at the little red-haired duckling next to the white mallard. Darkwing raised his eyebrows: "...If you have any objection that the girl is going on your ship, don't worry: she can defend herself pretty well if pirates appear."_

_"It's not that, sir..." The sailor finished sighing. "We don't allow people of... of that color like her on our ship. The other travelers aren't going to want her close." The latter added in a low voice, hoping the girl wouldn't hear him, but her hand squeezing the edge of the purple cape of the hunter duck strongly implied otherwise. The adult duck beside her looked at her sadly for a moment, then hardened his expression when he saw the sailor again._

_"Sometimes I wonder if Europe is really the cradle of modern civilization." He muttered disdainfully, taking out two gold coins, a higher payment than he had made at the beginning (which was ten copper coins) and leaving the sailor startled. "I will give you this if you let her in without problem... Do we have a deal?"_

_"Well... I can't refuse, sir," the sailor replied with a trembling voice taking the coins and pulling away so that the two ducks could get on the ship. "You can pass, messire, and and your... Maid?"_

_Darkwing gave him a cold look that made the sailor, a weasel, almost shrink. "If you'll excuse us... Gosalyn, dear, follow me."_

Darkwing ran his index finger across Gosalyn's dark cheeks, causing her to squirm a little, but without waking up yet... It was fascinating and at the same time scary for him.

It had been a long time since he had such a prolonged (and in this case permanent) company as Gosalyn was, and he still felt a noob in many things. He knew it very well. Fellowship, affection... all that was for Drake as strange lands to which he was venturing for the very first time, improvising and wondering if he was doing something wrong... Gods, it was absurd that a girl was apparently the source of his good mood now, but it was obvious that it was. Her ear was on his chest; he wondered if the sound of his heart was so relaxing for her that not even the tickle he did a moment ago woke her up... Or maybe she was just faking being asleep to make him uncomfortable on _purpose_.

...Gosalyn settled better almost petulantly. When they had aboard _"The Swift Maiden"_, the red-haired duckling had thought that they have to get to sleep on sacks of potatoes or even on the floor, although luckily they had found a free hammock. The captain had told them that unfortunately she would have to sleep on a blanket on the floor, although Darkwing's impulsive gesture was enough answer: He grabbed the girl and laid her on top of him in the hammock, asking the sailor if he had any problem with that... The captain had murmured no and had retired.

She had managed to sleep on that sea voyage, even a little. She found fun the constant rocking of the ship to be whipped by the waves... Although the best sound was undoubtedly the dull pounding of Drake's heart under her ear (in addition to his snoring), giving her the curious sensation of resting on a big and wild beast... Which in fact looked tender while sleeping: She had heard a lot about monster hunters, how lethal they were, how despised they were. She never thought she would be this close to one, see him sleep, feel his heart pounding next to her cheek... But she still didn't know many things about him. They are supposed to be friends now, right? Now she was... her daughter, although she still didn't feel ready to say it out louder... She wanted to know more about Drake, since now she would be long stuck with him.

Gosalyn had told Drake all about her, that she was born in South America, but had been raised in the Old World by her grandfather after the death of her parents, that she liked to play outdoors and loved to use pants instead of dresses, like the one she was wearing now... She wondered how Drake's childhood would have been, how he became a hunter, what he liked and most of all how he felt with her around... They were things she would have loved to know, but the immediate snoring of the white mallard when the captain had left them alone in the cabin had frustrated her. ...And now she felt the fingers of the mallard stroking her cheeks, her curls, the edge of her beak and her neck and back a little... If he intended to annoy her with his tickles, he didn't know who he was getting into. She made a warning growl, but the hunter ignored her. She heard a murmur: _"How can she make a noise like that? She's so small!"_. Last warning:

"I'm going to make us fall off this fishing net and I don't care if you get tangled up on the ground." she murmured softly. Darkwing chuckled.

"Is that it, little miss? Because we may still fall if a wave hits us."

"Come on."

"It's the truth, do you know how _many _ships have ended up at the bottom of the sea in this area?"

"Is _this _your way of _reassuring _a helpless little girl?"

"Hey, the only thing that comes to mind is jokes and I don't think you find mine funny."

"Better stop talking and hug me, so we both win." Gosalyn muttered, gently rubbing her face against the hollow of his neck. She felt the hunter shiver for a moment and then feel his arms move (numb from sleep), snake around her small figure, drawing her close to him.

* * *

"Gos, these are Chip and Dale." Darkwing introduced them in an affable way to the perplexed girl. "_Don't _let their sizes _fool _you: They're the _best _in treasure hunting."

"Just for saying that, I will give you the first coin we find," replied one of the squirrels with a smirk. The two brothers were identical, only Chip wore a leather jacket with a hat like Darkwing, but smaller in style; while Dale was only wearing a brightly colored shirt. These had received the two ducks when disembarking from the ship in the port of Good Hope. Darkwing introduced his daughter in turn with a smile that seemed affectionate to the redhead girl, something that surprised the squirrels.

"I _see _it and I _don't _believe it: Darkwing _'I flap alone' _Duck... _with _a _daughter_. I'm glad I _lived _to see _this_," Dale muttered, crossing his arms and laughing. Chip elbowed him. "How the heck did you do to _tame _him, girl?"

"Dale!" Chip exclaimed, but Gosalyn laughed too.

"Oh well, I have my particular charm," she replied somewhat presumptuously. "And how did you meet Darkwing _'I flap alone'_ Duck?" She asked.

"Oh, well, your father has a funny story with our association," Dale replied, leading the ducks to a carriage waiting for them. "About a few years ago, we had a nasty encounter with a ghoul of killer instincts in Babylon and it happens that Darkwing was around and gave us a hand... He ended up with a ghoul slime until even where the sun doesn't shine for him."

Gosalyn covered her mouth to silence her loud laughter. Darkwing blushed and gave the squirrel a stern look. "Did you have to remember that?!"

"Hey it's funny, don't ask me to forget that," Dale replied with a laugh. Chip, beside him, sighed.

While arriving at the place where the squirrels were settling, they explained to the ducks about the mission: For centuries in Africa there was a legend that the body of St. Louis** (1)** was buried somewhere in Tunisia where he had died during the Crusade and the army of France had taken home an empty coffin or other corps... And that inside the tomb of the Holy King there were fabulous treasures, but they feared that there were ghouls or demons guarding the place, which according to their investigations, was among the mountains. They needed Darkwing on the expedition to try to find the historical tomb. The masked mallard smiled as he stretched his arms behind his head: "So it's a _pious _expedition... _With _benefits, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, he added: "I just came here, it would be silly to return right away."

"We thought you could refuse if we told you the surprise... Besides, with the French army swarming around here **(2)**, maybe they can put us in some trouble." Chip said, taking out a piece of parchment about the size of a page from a book (That is, suitable for ducks but huge for squirrels) and giving it to Darkwing. "We would go tomorrow with our team."

"That sounds exciting. What time would it be?" Gosalyn asked, taking the sheet and studying it with enthusiasm. Darkwing looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"I suppose you would stay at the base while we left there." he replied, taking the scroll again. The red-haired girl snorted crossing her arms.

"Good joke, Darkwing. You can't leave me alone, I will accompany you." Gosalyn said nudging him with a boastful smile, despite the hunter's protests and grunts. The rest of the trip the ducks were discussing the tremendous irresponsibility of letting a girl accompany them where there are ghouls and other horrible creatures... Dale nudged his brother.

"I never thought we'd see the old Dark loving someone like that, huh?"

Chip laughed. "Arguing with someone is a way to love them?"

"My brother, the best way to see how much someone loves another is to see how often they argue. As it happens to us, in fact."

Chip just rolled his eyes.

* * *

They had spent the night in a fortified stone hut that was near the harbor, which seemed abandoned and... The same brothers hinted that they had made the locals believe that it was haunted thanks to their jokes that they had done to anyone who dared to come inside. Gosalyn smiled and told them that she did the same when she was alone, and that she used to use a pan as a last resort... After that, Darkwing muttered: "I still have the signs of her pan under my hat.", making Gosalyn laugh.

Inside the cabin were the three remaining members of the squirrel team: the mice Gadget and Monty, as well as the fly Zipper Chip and Dale, perched respectively on Darkwing's shoulder and hat, introduced them and updated them on their plans. While they sat at a rickety table to drink milk in bowls and eat bread loaves, they prepared everything for the next day's expedition. Although Darkwing hinted that Gosalyn should stay and watch the "haunted" house while they were away, Gadget, in a soft tone, replied that it wouldn't be something recommended that she be alone with the French army being near there... At those words, Darkwing grabbed Gosalyn's hand under the table impulsively and squeezed it. She looked at him strangely, but said nothing, silently savoring her victory.

* * *

The next day was disastrous from the moment the expedition had begun, just after dawn. While they were on the side of the mountain, an unpleasant sensation surrounded the small group as they tried to enter the brush. Chip, perched on Darkwing's hat and using his binoculars, tried to see what was happening. Around them there were only rocks and bushes, but they had the disturbing feeling that they were not exactly alone there. Gosalyn, who carried the saddlebags of the squirrels and the compass, muttered:

"Guys, don't you feel that _something _is approaching...?"

And a few seconds later, a blast up the hillside made everyone back off. Gadget shouted: "Careful!" seeing that pieces of rocks from the highest part began to fall. Darkwing grabbed Gosalyn and then ran to the side of the steep path, realizing horrified that if they backed down and ran down the slope, the muddy ground would make them slip... "Hold on tight!" Darkwing exclaimed lifting Gosalyn and running towards the falling rocks. Chip and Dale, clinging tightly to the edges of the purple cape, shouted directions to the white duck to dodge the falling rocks:

"To your right!"

"Left!"

"No, Dale, the _other _Left!"

"Let's go there!" Monty exclaimed when the hunting duck had seen a large rock formation that was between several pines where they could protect themselves. Darkwing pressed himself against the rock, breathing heavily, pulling out his consecrated weapon, the Holy Gun, with one hand while with the other he pressed the red-haired girl against his side. The muddy ground made his webbed feet slide slowly... At that moment, screams of terror began to be heard in the distance, causing Chip and Dale to poke their heads over the edge of the rock. There, they saw that several men in uniform, no doubt soldiers of the French army, were running down in terror, as if they were also fleeing from the rain of rocks... Or rather ...

"What is that thing?!" Dale exclaimed when they saw that a creature that looked like a revived corpse but with deformed lumps on its body, claws, fangs and a strange greenish color that was zigzagging among the trees chasing down the French soldiers downhill, until the monster made an impossible leap for a mortal and as a panther would, he shot down one of the soldiers, tearing his head from a bite. Darkwing growled.

"A _Ghül _**(3)**, and it seems he won't stop until he satisfies his hunger. Gosalyn, stay here, the others try to cover me!" And he ran in the direction of the Ghül, throwing a dagger in the direction of the beast, which the creature dodged it by jumping towards the highest rocks to try to jump on the duck and bite him; Darkwing pulled a curved dagger from his coat, trying to hit the horrible creature. Several meters ago, from the rock formation, Chip and Dale's team watched the fight nervously, frantically searching for something to help the hunter duck.

"Crap, why did I leave my melted caramel bazooka at the base?!" Gadget said angrily digging into her own saddlebags. Dale muttered, still looking at the confrontation with concern:

"What if we build slings and throw stones at it?"

Gosalyn was very restless. Drake was having a hard time trying to hit the Ghül with his short blade while avoiding slipping too much on the stony and muddy slope, escaping several blows of the ghoul monster by a little... _"I can't stay here and do nothing, I must help him!"_ And desperate, she searched Darkwing's own saddlebags, looking for something to throw: A firecracker, even one of his chemical bomb jars, whatever... Suddenly she saw a quiver full of arrows, as well as a short bow. She quickly took it in her hands and awkwardly maneuvered the arrow over the bow... "Come on, this is like shooting eggs with the sling at the head of the town drunk, it's the same thing..." she muttered to herself, tensing the rope, pointing somewhere in the monster's body...

"Come closer, come closer and you'll see!" Darkwing said alternating between strokes of his short blade and some bullets of the consecrated gun, trying to avoid the jaws and claws of the Ghül by a few centimeters of his face... Until a arrow whistled just above his head, hitting one of the monster's legs, causing him to back away in pain. Perplexed, Darkwing turned back, noticing Gosalyn with the bow and an arrow in her hand... She had just shot with his bow?! He would have wanted to ask her... but then he turned around and just the Ghül fell on top of him, knocking him down. Darkwing had his hands on the creature's jaws, trying to prevent the monster from biting him... He heard the cries of squirrels and mice, especially the cry of "Darkwing!" from Gosalyn... The masked mallard began little to move the face of the Ghül away from his; he only needed a second to take out his Holy Gun, just a damn second... The Ghül again let out a deafening bellow, moving away for a few seconds, revealing another arrow stuck in his ear. Darkwing loaded the Holy Gun and said, _"Ahkhraj!"_ **(4)**, pulling the trigger, flying Ghül's brains everywhere... Falling more than anything

about Darkwing, as well as the monster's body itself over him.

"Darkwing, my friend, for a little!" Dale exclaimed as his brother and the others left the rock to approach the white duck. He crawled out of the heavy body of the Ghül and stood up, snorting to recover air. He turned, but didn't look at Dale or the others; He looked at her, still holding the bow with one hand and the quiver with the other, her face dismayed, as if she couldn't believe she had succeeded. Noticing her guardian's penetrating eyes staring at her, Gosalyn looked up and composed a crooked smile.

"You said I should _stay _where I was... And well, I wasn't going to stand there while that thing ripped your face off a bite, was I...?"

Once _again_, that girl had managed to leave the hunter _speechless_.

* * *

After that violent attack, they had decided that it would be best to postpone the search for the tomb of the Holy King and returned from the skirt of the mountain, taking the corpse of the French soldier without a head with them. The Frankish army was in fact at the foot of the path they had used, waiting for them... Although both Darkwing and Chip came forward to try to avoid some altercation, the captain of the battalion thanked them for getting rid of the monster and bringing the soldier's body, incidentally explaining what happened:

"There are still fools who try to look for the supposed body of Monsignor St. Louis when the relics of St. Louis are safe in France," he said with a wry smile. Chip rolled his eyes. "... We appreaciated your help. I guess you're a hunter, so you can tell us what the hell was that thing."

"That's right, you got both statements right, Captain," Darkwing replied, swelling his chest proudly. "That was a Ghül, an undead who eats corpses and sometimes steals children from the hillsides to eat them..." he added looking sideways at Gosalyn. The captain sighed.

"That would explain the disappearances of some children and even soldiers who were guarding that area... I suppose you would want a reward for this."

"Oh, we certainly asked for it, _messire_," Dale interceded with a radiant smile. "How much are we talking about, exactly?"

* * *

Darkwing looked at her from afar, seeing her with her back straight, one eye closed, breathing softly, tightening the bow between her little fingers... The old arrow whistled in the air and hit the old open can of olives, making it fly away from the fence where she had placed it, being her several meters away from the target. Gadget, beside her, cheered enthusiastically.

"I must say that you are incredibly good with the bow, my dear. Had you done this before?"

Gosalyn lowered the bow and smiled with a mixture of nostalgia and fun: "Well, when I lived with Grandpa, I used to shoot the children and the village drunk with eggs or acorns with my sling from the roofs ... Is the same thing , right?"

"Well..." Gadget hesitated, glancing at Darkwing, who shrugged somewhat distractedly. "We could say yes... In theory."

"Keeen gear, with this I could help you hunt monsters, Darkwing," Gosalyn observed loudly, turning to look at Drake. Since they had returned to the fort and had lunch, counting the bags of gold coins (Gosalyn was very surprised when Chip gave her a heavy bag too: "You were the decisive blow in our favor, girl." The squirrel had said with a smile), the girl had gone out to the courtyard next to the house to practice with the bow in the twilight, shooting at various targets: A can, a beetle or dragonfly that fluttered nearby, including Darkwing's hat twice. "You could recreate the climax of William Tell, Miss Gosalyn" Dale had said laughing... Instead, Darkwing had sat on a cut log to watch her practice her shots with amazing precision, deep in thought... Then the white duck heard her: "...Earth calling Darkwing, can you hear me?"

"Eh? Yes, of course, Gos. What's up?" He murmured. Gosalyn raised an eyebrow.

"I said that with this I could help you hunt monsters," she repeated with obvious enthusiasm, despite the lack of it on the face of her now permanent protector: "Wouldn't it be great? You will fight melee, and I will fight from the rear... We would be unstoppable together, a real team, a... A real terror that flaps in the night!"

"Stop your horse, Gosalyn: When I decided that you were going to accompany me to hunt monsters?" Darkwing asked her raising an eyebrow. The red-haired duckling snorted, exasperated:

"Well, when that zombie, Gul... whatever that thing was was going to rip your beak out and use it as a snack, obviously," Gosalyn reasoned, crossing her arms. Darkwing also snorted and replied in a severe tone:

"Listen to me, miss: You don't know what's out there. This is not a child's play like the ones you used to do in your village, it's real life. And the reality is harder and horrible than you've ever imagined. You don't know yet because..."

"Why? Because I'm a girl, right? "Gosalyn asked crudely, narrowing her eyes… Darkwing hesitated a moment. And then he sighed.

"Because I swore to protect you. And letting you get in the line of fire and in my cases it is NOT exactly what I have in mind about keeping you safe." She didn't respond to that. They both remained silent, hearing only the distant sounds of the harbor and the sea near them... Then, they heard Monty's cheerful voice, calling them:

"Guys, Dale mentioned us a pub near here where they offer fantastic cider and cheeses. We will have dinner outside to celebrate our unexpected treasure. Miss Waddlemeyer, Dale said that in that pub they also have a target shooting range. Are you coming with us?"

"_Cool beans_, of course I'll go!" She said happily. Then he smiled smugly at the hunting duck. "Are you coming or what?"

"I'm going after you, Gosalyn," Darkwing murmured, looking toward the portion of the sun disk that was trembling over the waters of the Mediterranean before hiding in the clouds. He couldn't believe it ... He couldn't believe it... He couldn't believe he was jealous of a nine-year-old rookie brat... And that was even more mortifying when he remembered that that rookie brat was the one who saved his life, a veteran hunter with years of experience.

* * *

The pub where they had entered, **_The Anchovy Can_**, was near the same port, so no one was surprised by the smell of fish that was felt from the porch of the establishment to inside the place, despite the intense smell of incense, hot wax and butter. Although the clock stood almost seven o'clock at night, the place was overflowing with diners... And from what it looked, half of them were monster hunters. How did they notice? Not only because hats with goggles were visible, even over the heads of their owners... But it only took someone to shout:

"But it's the old Darkwing Duck!" He heard a powerful male voice next to him nearby when just half hour ago, the group had finally managed to sit at one end of the bar. At that time, there was only him, because Gosalyn had gone out to practice her shots in the pub courtyard, accompanied by Gadget, while the rest of the team was at another table. The aforementioned duck turned in surprise, to see a large leopard in a beige coat and hat and a pair of blades in his belt, who smiled in a good way at the white mallard.

"Mondo, what brings you here in these places?"

"Bah, giving me a break after killing a vampire in Ethiopia. The bitch resisted me but in the end I got her head... And I kept other parts for my private collection." the hunter leopard said taking a drink from the bottle of tequila that he holds in his hand. "And you, Darkwing? What made you leave the caves of the eastern forests?"

"Bah, you already know what the thing is like: Work here, work there," Darkwing replied in a gentle tone, evidently softened by the heat of the place and the bottle of red wine next to him, half empty. "I came to help some friends, maybe then I go to France for a break too after spending a few days relaxing here."

"Aaaaah, not only France is delicious for the food, but also for the French women. The travelers say it well: Frankish butts are what you should try at least once." Modo said and laughed, having another drink. "If you want, Darkwing, I recommend some places; You say you come in my name."

"Thanks Mondo, for your kind offer, but I'll pass," Darkwing replied, taking a sip of his wine glass. "It would be another time, perhaps."

"Come on, DW! Don't tell me that you just enter in the crisis of middle age... When it is precisely when you go through those crises that you must get more fun and fuck more...! You know? It's funny, it seems that we are similar to our eternal enemies: We become vampires and seek the _"spirit"_ of young female creatures..."

But Darkwing no longer listened. The voice of the hunter leopard was lost in the noise of the pub, which seemed to be fuller at that time than ever, while the feeling of abandonment of the wine seemed to make the hunter duck lost in a vacuum... Even so, his mind kept wandering, going around the topic that had been bothering him... And it wasn't so much the jealousy that Gosalyn had saved his ass and also handled the bow with a skill that far exceeded his own... But it was with Gosalyn herself.

Darkwing had no idea what direction the ship they had taken together was going... What was it they had? An agreement? A partnership? ...A family? Heck, he didn't know if that was the right thing... Granted, he had a deep affection for Gosalyn and he wanted her to be with him, but he wasn't sure if she felt the same as him; he didn't know if it was the right thing to having her chained to him by a selfish desire of him, by a document signed by a judge, without having any kind of blood relationship: He wasn't her father, he was nothing from her... Just as she was nothing from him. And blood was everything. Blood was what make families, right...? Another long sip of wine to his mouth, this time directly from the bottle. Damn it, he had always been alone, in the middle of this cruel and depraved world...

"Hey, Darkwing, what about that little _zambita _**(5)** that came here with you?"

Darkwing returned from the ethylic nebula, almost spitting out the drink of wine he had just finished drinking, remembering that Mondo was still there and still talking. And now he was talking about... "Excuse me?"

"That pretty Hispanic girl who came in with you and now went to the backyard with a bow and arrows... I didn't know you had those tastes, Dark, hehehe."

A cold swept through his spine in a brutal and almost painful way, but Darkwing didn't show it. Perhaps he was misinterpreting the words of the hunter leopard... Until a past memory came to him with delayed effect: A phrase spoken by Mondo, several years ago, that he had always said, every time they went to a new terrain: 'Monsters are to be fought, the alcohol to drink it and the girls to be fucked, the younger the better.' ...With the expression frozen by dismay, Darkwing continued to listen:

"...That reminds me of when I went to the jungles of Colombia and saved a tribe of aboriginal ducks from a monster. They offered me fruit, necklaces, all that shit they use... Do you know what I did? I screwed the boss's youngest daughter... In fact, now that I think about it, she looked a lot like the little zambita you have. _Aaaahh_, her tight pussy felt _soooo glorious..."_

...Darkwing's hand squeezed so hard that it was a miracle that he hadn't burst it yet... He didn't know what it was that he disliked more: If the racist expressions of the leopard about Gosalyn or that he believed Darkwing had her by his side to... Agh, it was too abominable to even think about it! He couldn't keep hearing anymore. He had to leave or a fight would form... And he knew that a bar fight between hunters was as dangerous as a bar fight between gunmen... But then:

"Hey Darkwing, how much do you sell me to your little zambita? I feel generous today and I don't want the usual sluts today. Set the price, my feathered pal, and, -_ as you say -_ let's get some business"

Darkwing's response was to get up from the bar and leave him alone, feeling his feathers boil with rage, taking the bottle of red wine with him, sipping a long swipe to remove the arcades from above. He planned to look for Gos and get out of there when a hand grabbed him by his forearm. Darkwing was about to respond to that unwanted contact with a punch when he saw that it was a short old man with an impressive white mustache and a scout hat. Perched on his shoulders, smiling, were Chip and Dale.

"Darkwing, this is Professor Porter, from the University of Oxford. He was just passing by studying local fauna when we talked about our disastrous expedition and your impressive handling of the Ghül, so we have a job for you, if you're interested."

Darkwing looked sideways, noting that Mondo had just left the front door of the pub and didn't make the shooting range of the yard, so he relaxed a little. _"Yep, yep, yep_. I'm all ears, professor."

* * *

"You know what? I'm having hungry again. Could we can ask for an extra piece of cake?" Gosalyn observed, lowering the bow, noting that the arrow had been stuck high on a beam, out of reach. Noticing a box she could use, the duckling told Gadget to go to the bar and ask for her while she retrieved the arrow. The little female mouse agreed it and went into the pub. The red-haired girl pushed the box until it was right next to her and climbed up, noticing with dismay that the arrow was still too tall for her. Gosalyn began to jump towards the arrow... until she felt herself in the air, noticing that a pair of broad, calloused hands held her by the waist, raising her to the arrow. For a moment she thought he was Darkwing, until a purr made her turn... And she saw a tall, big leopard, with a smile full of sharp teeth... "Hi!" She said cheerfully. "I'm Gosalyn. Are you also a hunter, like Darkwing?"

The leopard smiled, smoothly, without lowering the girl. "Oh yes, _I'm _a hunter... And _you_, dear girl, are _my prey_."

It _only _took a thousandth of a second for her to _understand _it. And terror _bristled _her feathers.

Gosalyn began a movement of trying to bite the leopard in the forearm to let her go, but the hunter was faster, giving her a strong blow on the entire cheek that stunned her for a moment... The next she felt as her back was against the wooden shed, crushed under the almost 150 pounds of the leopard, resting a claw on her throat, squeezing it to keep her from screaming._ "Oh, no, no, no, no, no...!"_ she thought terrified when she felt the claws begin to feel under her shirt, touching her plumage very sharply. Gosalyn squirmed and tried to kick him to get rid of him, but the hunter, still holding her with one hand, sank the jaws on her shoulder, pressing his teeth to leave a mark, but not biting her. The girl was petrified of terror, she couldn't think. "...If you get me angry, I'll punish you, sweetheart. _Hasn't _old Darkwing taught you the_ adult games_ yet...?" Her soul fell to her feet as the claws tore her shirt, leaving her small breasts still undeveloped exposed to the cold air. The red-haired duckling let out strangled sobs, closing her eyes tightly, twisting with despair as the filthy hunter leopard groped her entire torso with his free claw while sniffing loudly in her still covered crotch, preparing to tear her pants apart too... "Give daddy _some _of your brown sugar, pretty little _zambita_..." Gosalyn opened her eyes; She saw the leopard in a blurry way over her... And among the mist of her tears, she saw _him_.

A dense stream of blood leaped followed by the sound of exploding glass fragments that flew in all directions. An intense smell of wine and blood flooded her nostrils. The leopard fell heavily on her, releasing his claws from her neck, allowing her to breathe. The big cat tried to turn around to attack the one who had interrupted his amusement, but what he received were the sharp glass of the broken bottle, smashing hard on his forehead and eyes, making him collapse on the ground with a scream, trying to protect himself weakly and uselessly the face until the sky finally went out for him: Broken bloody glass had cut his carotid artery, letting out a stream of blood, which flooded the same webbed feet of...

"...DARKWING, BUT WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!"

The hunters, and other diners of the pub fell into a crushing silence that had followed that scream, no doubt given by any of the hunters present... Darkwing Duck briefly turned his eyes to them, showing his face, chest and arms with blood spots. His blue eyes shone almost white in the dim, in a silence even more intense than theirs, practically sepulchral. His feathered hands held the trembling shoulders of the girl who had arrived with him, partially hidden under the purple cape, hiding her brutalized semi-nudity, giving them a haggard, desolate, outraged look in her eyes, bright with tears... No one moved a muscle. A single movement and the bullets would fly.

...Darkwing threw a sack of cloth on the floor, causing the gold and silver coins to spill at the feet of the perplexed hunters. "Bury him with this. And give the rest to your friends and family if you can find them. And tell them that this was a duel of honor."

Someone shouted from the crowd: "Duel?! Rather a fucking execution, Darkwing! For the honor of who?!"

The hunter mob began to move agitated, altering more and more, and shouts and insults flew: "Darkwing, you exceeded yourself a lot, and for a _fucking _immigrant girl!" "You really killed him for that?! Sure _this _immigrant _whore _wanted it!" "DON'T call the police, let's _hang _him by his feathered testicles!" "Leave it to me, I'll _pluck _them with pleasure!" ...The girl trembled more, clinging convulsively to Darkwing's bloodied arms. In silence, Chip, Dale, Gadget and Monty were important, not knowing what to do... Until a powerful shotgun was fired in the air and hit a nearby bell, silencing everyone: It was the bartender of the pub, a black jaguar to who everyone knew as Manchas. The bartender stepped forward from the rabid but contained mob, still holding his high-powered shotgun, still looking Darkwing in the eye. After an unbearable silence of several seconds, Manchas said:

"The reason I always demand that all of you leave your weapons at the door is to avoid shit like this... You better go, Darkwing. With your maid, lover or whatever the hell be that girl and leave Tunisia. Right now. If we see you at midnight around here, there will be no mercy... _Have _you understood?"

Another silence from beyond the grave. And Darkwing responded with a cold tone: "Let me pass."

And then he walked towards them, leaving traces of blood in his path, carrying Gosalyn in his arms. They all turned away, looking at him like rabid dogs, some saying horrible harangues towards him and racist expressions towards her. Darkwing continued walking, with a silence and a coldness of a sepulchral slab, without looking at anyone, not even Chip and Dale's team, whom dared not follow them. He took his Holy Gun from the special coat hanger that the pub had installed for all weapons and went out the door, without turning back to look at the uproar that had formed in the courtyard to try to revive Mondo, in vain. In silence, both went into the freezing darkness of the night, towards the port, a couple of meters forward.

**...**

The captain of that merchant ship, a weasel of Norman origin, believed for a moment that he was going to give him a heart attack after such a vision he had ahead: A white mallard in uniform and purple mask with large blood stains, and he was he carrying in his arms... a baby? He had no idea, but he did know that he had been scared to death, as if a ghost had appeared. In fact, the sailor had taken out his handgun when the duck, in a voice of the grave, had said: "Don't even think about it..." then he throw some gold coins at the sailor's feet, asking him to take them away from there, to Marseille, right now. The captain whispered his agreement and let them up. The white mallard's gaze was disturbing, almost wild. The captain muttered:

"_Messire_, do you need us to bring you something? Maybe a wooden tub of water or... maybe some clothes or bandages?"

The mallard nodded at everything, without looking at him. His ice blue eyes were fixed on what he was still carrying, that thanks to the light of the lamps on the deck the sailor could saw that it was a Hispanic girl with hair as red as the same blood that surrounded her face and the face of the man who was holding her fierce.

The cabin that the captain had given them was undoubtedly his own, for the simple fact that there was a bed and not a simple hammock. Darkwing entered and left Gosalyn on the bed, then looked around, looking for some possible trap while taking off his hat. Instantly the captain entered with a partner and left a wooden tub full with water, enough big for both of them to take a bath, although a little tight... Although the white mallard thought about it, he immediately regretted seeing Gosalyn still clinging to the cloak on her body as if her life depended on it... He sighed and ripped a piece of cloth from the sheets, soaked it in the cold water and approached her, who had her eyes lost, her beak tight... He was afraid to alter her more than she wa. Mentally wishing that Mondo was frying in hell, he cleared his throat: "Eh... Will you let me, Gos?"

She nodded and lifted her head, letting Drake clean the blood and gray matter that had fallen on her face and neck, avoiding going down the clavicles to respect her modesty... or what was left of it. Although he did it as smoothly as possible, Drake kept cursing himself in his mind. "This wouldn't have happened if I had looked for her immediately after moving away from Mondo. If I hadn't given myself to go see how she was, that wretch would have eaten her. What kind of guardian of crap are you, Mallard...?"

"Drake?" The duck lowered his head to see her bite the lower side of her beak, as if Gosalyn was thinking what she was going to say ... In the end she took a deep breath:" I'm sorry... I'm very sorry. I should have realized, I should have been more attentive. I trusted a lot, I thought all the hunters were like you... And even after what happened in St. Canard I was still under guard, I also left your bow, I'm so stupid, I'm a fool, I'm..."

"Shut up, please shut up!" Gosalyn fell silent at his harsh voice, but then the adult duck hugged her, kneeling to stay at her height. For a moment the red-haired girl didn't know how to react... For a thousandth of a second she wanted to get away from him, push him, still remembering the unwanted contact... Then she mentally slapped herself: It wasn't _him_, it was _Drake_. And Drake wouldn't hurt her like _that_... right? Hesitantly, she moved, clinging to his bloody uniform. When he felt her react, the white duck murmured. "It wasn't your fault, Gos. I should have realized, I should have taken you out of there right away, I..."

"Have you _ever _done something like this?" She muttered, interrupting him in turn. Darkwing broke away and looked into her eyes.

"This is the _first _time I've killed _another _man," he whispered. And Gosalyn believed him. There was a silence, after which Darkwing got up. "You should clean yourself up. I... I'll go out to give you privacy." Gosalyn nodded, watching him go to the cabin door... just to turn on his heels and give her a long dagger that he pulled from his jacket. The red-haired girl opened her mouth to ask, but Darkwing came forward: "I'll be outside, but I don't want it to be repeated." And this time he did come out, closing the door.

The cold and salty air stabbed his lungs. Finally alone, he could finally let out all his horror at what had just happened... As if it was a dizzying film reel, the scenes flew through his head. Mondo's words were repeated in an unbearable loop, as were Gosalyn's faint screams... The bottle of red wine flew making a perfect bow, then felt the explosion of broken glass, like a shower of stars. The blood flew, redder than the wine itself. The carotid artery was undone in a crimson mayhem that would have fed a horde of vampires. The convulsions, the eyes looking at nothing... Darkwing couldn't stand it anymore and ran to the edge of the ship, vomiting the half-digested remains of wine, vegetable stew, greasy herring and some brandy shots. He felt his body tremble, so he leaned on the edge, breathing deeply, feeling that despite that, his heart was still racing and heavy, as if he had run a marathon...

_"Love feels a lot like a terror that stops your heart," _his mother had said once, when she had punished him with the palm for having gone on an excursion without telling him... Drake had never understood, until that moment... He couldn't help letting out a cry of rage, clutching his head in his hands, dropping himself on the floor

What had he expected? That such a situation did not happen again? That he never failed to be a guardian again? Drake couldn't even take care of a plant, _LESS _to a girl... Why on earth did he NOT listen to his conscience telling him it would be a bad idea to go to that convent? Why did he let himself be convinced of that capricious and sinuous heart of his? That happened to him as an idiot and reckless... This happened to get out of the _line_, the _status quo_: Hunters are lonely wolves, they don't have no family, or friends... They shouldn't care for someone, because they would always be in danger... For God's sake, Darkwing Duck was a fucking veteran hunter: He knew very well what the game was like, the risks, what he _shouldn't _do...! And then it goes like a complete moron to complicate the fucking existence by chaining himself with a little girl for _'love'_... Bah, the hunters couldn't do that. That is the life he had chosen to have ...

"Drake."

Drake looked up: The cabin door was open and Gosalyn was in front of him, scrutinizing him with her emerald gaze. Her wet hair fell on both sides of her cheeks like reddish snakes. Her small body recently bathed was poorly covered by a man's white shirt that gave her a very indecent and even provocative air in the eyes of any other of that time, so full of modesty and righteousness as well as cruelty and depravity... An abject nymph who had awakened passions and now a bloodbath... An abject beauty that he saw with desire... To _protect_, to _preserve _under his wings. Darkwing rose slowly and approached her. His trembling fingers approached that soft brown skin clearly visible under the too large cloth. He circled her in his arms and lifted her. She looked at him with those eyes that looked like gems, and once again, Darkwing felt that when he looked at her, the whole world around her seemed empty... "Let's go inside, you're going to catch a cold, Gos." He said softly, drawing a smile, which she returned weakly.

She nodded, letting herself take to the bed, where the hunter duck placed her carefully. She covered herself even more with the sheets as she watched Drake taking off his purple outer jacket, smeared with blood and wine. He rinsed it in the water of the wooden tub and then hung it on a beam. As he rolled up the sleeves of his blue turtleneck, she saw the scars on his arms, clearly visible lines between the white plumage; Gosalyn was sure that if he took off his shirt, she would see even more marked scars between the feathers and the muscles. "Do you want me to give you privacy so you can take a shower too?" She asked. Darkwing shook his head.

"Nah, I'm not going to die for not taking a shower. Now I have something more important to do." She tensed involuntarily when Drake sat on the edge of the bed. His blue eyes looked exhausted and sad... And she had just seen them burning with an almost _hellish _rage by cutting off the carotid artery of the leopard _without _any hint of _mercy_... It was so strange.

Drake smiled softly and asked her if she wanted him to sing his lullaby, but to his surprise, she refused: "Can you... Can you sleep here with me? I... I don't want to be alone." She muttered, hating herself for feeling so weak. Drake nodded silently, getting into bed, closing his eyes. The bed was quite small, so they were tight. Although they had already slept together in a hammock, it had been by an impulsive gesture, so this was a new ground for both of them... Still, it felt good. Drake put an arm around the girl's side, tickling her to let out a giggle, although he didn't extend it much: She knew all his weak spots too. "I don't want you to blame yourself for this... You're doing an amazing job protecting me." .

Drake opened his eyes, looking at her languidly, sketching a sad smile. "I will if you don't blame yourself for this either. And... Looks like you're doing that for me too." Gosalyn chuckled.

"It seems fair to me," she murmured, getting closer, snuggling in his chest, inhaling deeply his scent that was shouting the word _'protector'_... "You know?" Every day I miss my Grandpa, also my parents... " Drake tensed, afraid of what she might say next "...but also, I'm very grateful to have found you." Gosalyn raised her head to look at him. The white mallard's heart squeezed at the sight of tears in her beautiful green eyes. "Do you feel the same?"

Drake was simply amazed, a lump in his throat was beginning to form... "Oh, Gosalyn," he whispered, surrounding her completely in his arms, one of his hands placed in her nape and the other in her small back. "Do you want me to tell you a secret? I've never been so happy in my whole life _until _you hit me with your pan." Gosalyn laughed. "...But when you helped me tear down the Ghül, I _knew_: You complement me, little one. I told you before and I repeat: I need you to be here, with me, always.

"I love you..." she whispered, as if she had long wanted to say that. She paused and sighed the word _"...Dad."_

Drake felt he was short of breath. His eyes began to glow in the dim darkness, feeling that his heart was going to burst... Of happiness. It was as if the girl had bewitched him, having him under her will... Dale had been right: A little girl had managed to _tame _the ruthless hunter Darkwing Duck... And he himself would declare himself a devoted slave for the love of his daughter. His daughter.

To hell the blood and the lineage. The prevailing morality and what the others will say...

"Me too... I love you too, my little girl blue... My daughter, mine..." He muttered, kissing her forehead with devotion. She sighed happily as she stretched a little to kiss his cheek, receiving a sigh of satisfaction from him. They stayed coddling to each other for a few more moments until finally, the father and the daughter fell asleep, safe from the unpleasant events of that day, with dreams full of belonging and love.

**To be continue.**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**(1) **_Saint Louis_ or Louis IX of France (1214 - 1270) was King of France, canonized as a saint in 1297, after his death during the Eighth Crusade in Tunisia, the legend ran that his grave remained in Africa, while the French army took to home an empty coffin or with another corpse.

**(2) **Tunisia was a colony of France from 1878 to 1956

**(3) **Ghül is a ghoul of Arab/Islamic mythology that rounds cemeteries to feed on corpses.

**(4) **_"Get out!"_ in Arabic.

**(5)** Refers to _"Zambo"_, name given to individuals product of the miscegenation of American Indians with Af


	5. That warm blood that belonged to them

**Warning**: Violent and suggestive scenes in the last parts.

**Part five: **

**...That warm blood that belonged to both of them.**

Her soft brown feathers were pearled with droplets in the leaden light of the narrow window. She took one of the new shirts that had been obtained, sighing with pleasure at the softness of the fabric against her plumage (which also _smelled_ new!), Then rushing down the creaking stairs to the ground floor after finishing of putting on her old boots. Although it was too early for her, and she would rather be sleeping until past noon, her father had shaken her until she was almost pulled from the cot: Nothing to slack off today, for there was something very important to do, something that was related to her... She had to admit that the fact that it had to do with her made him intriguing and made her give up a certain gesture of pouting with her little beak that (as she had discovered with malevolent pleasure), it makes Drake _crazy_ and making him _too hard_ to deny anything to her.

It had been a week since they were staying in that guest house that was definitely more interesting inside than outside, hidden in one of the busy alleys of Paris. At the time of docking in Marseille, the masked mallard had written through Morse code to some friends in the capital so they could receive them... Due to several favors that they owed him precisely. When Gosalyn had asked him how many contacts he had, Drake had shrugged and said that being a job where you moved a lot, you knew a lot of people... And you got some support networks along the way.

Upon receiving the good news that they would receive them, they both headed north of the country, getting money by exterminating monsters and vampires along the way, so they could get decent clothes for her from day one and the best... And weapons: The red-haired duckling had stars in her eyes when she took her new bow with jagged arrows to do even more damage to the enemies, as well as a jagged dagger that she would _always_ carry hidden in her thigh with a strap of leather to defend herself against any attacker who invades her _"personal space"... _Something that was complemented by quick lessons to cut and hit vital points of the body to incapacitate or kill. Gosalyn enjoyed these violent classes with her new father because they were always accompanied by affectionate gestures from Darkwing towards her, from patting her head, looking for goodies in the street (even though Drake insisted she should eat healthier), or, better yet, snuggling together in a train car or in a pub... Gosalyn and Drake had found very pleasant the transition from acquaintances to a family: Even Gosalyn got into the fights and Darkwing began to shout to stay in the rear; they still jumped into the jugular of the other, with him scolding her and she claiming him, in the end making peace between them with a hug... And now they held hands when walking through a city or town, not just to prevent them from being separated by the crowds, but because it _felt_ very good... And those words also felt _so good_:

_"Dad, I want a wafer."_

_"Dad, you're snoring too much. Wake up!"_

_"Dad, what would you think if I created an alter-ego to be a hunter like you? Wouldn't it be cool?"_

Every time he heard them from her sweet lips, Drake felt a delicious warmth in his chest, _much more_ pleasant and powerful than any glass of whiskey on a cold night... And it was a warmth he was determined not to lose under any pretext... Therefore, he had something to do about it.

Finally, Gosalyn arrived in the common room where diners were already finishing today's substantial breakfast: Pancakes with fruit. Her father was talking to a duck with feathers as dark as hers, while the latter wrote down things in a notebook at high speed. Beside him was a tall and skinny white rooster with glasses with a small yellow hat and a boring look that was using a wrench to adjust some nuts of what appeared to be a light bulb with mechanical parts, which stirred the mechanical arms as if it wished escape from that "torture". At the time of sitting in the only chair available, Gosalyn began to eat the pancakes quickly, barely giving herself time to breathe, while what appeared to be a stone horse with the head replaced by the face of a duck carved in stone approached her to serve her an extra portion. "Thank you, Manny!" she said with her mouth full.

"Clap" "Clap" (You're welcome)" The horse answered with his hooves language. Darkwing made a disapproving noise.

"What did I tell you about eating like that, little miss? No one is attacking us." Before his tone that didn't admit replication, the girl pouted and began to eat more slowly. The dark feather duck beside the white mallard giggled.

"I love _how_ you went from being a lonely wolf to a lonely wolf with a cub. I'm proud of your maturity as a person, Drake." He said with a smile, patting the mallard's shoulder, who gave him a slightly frowned look, arching an eyebrow. The white rooster snorted.

"If you had that same maturity as a soldier, you wouldn't be damaging the armor as quickly as she's eating, Fenton." He replied as he placed the bulb with mechanical limbs on the table, which stood. Fenton grimaced, blushing.

"But I do what I can, Gyro! Besides, you said all those were prototypes!"

"I said prototypes, _not_ test dolls, dumb-head." The rooster murmured with a hint of fatigue in his voice turning on the light bulb switch, which began to move around the wooden table, jumping happily. Drake and Gosalyn said nothing about the outburst that followed between the duck and the rooster, while Manny collected the remains of unfinished breakfast that remained between them.

As Darkwing had explained to Gosalyn when they arrived in the Parisian capital, there lived a few acquaintances who were part of the "support network" of which the mallard had spoken, highlighting the rooster Gyro Gearloose, mechanical-scientist of the legendary banker Scrooge McDuck, now in a _"sabbatical year"_ in Europe in the company of his assistants, Manny the Horse and Lil'Bulb, to find ideas for "super-soldiers" using the prevailing technologies of the time, making a society (reluctantly, of course ) with an enthusiastic hunter, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, creating a kind of mechanized hunter and automaton that was controlled by a flesh and blood being. According to Gyro, the idea was revolutionary, which would cause all monster hunters and conventional soldiers to retreat for dangerous missions (and when he said it, Darkwing had cast a sour look at him) ...but he still needed several tests before offering the automaton to kings and state leaders... And that was evidenced by seeing the constant dents of _Gizmoduck'_s armor, which was the nickname Fenton had given his new alter-ego, despite Gyro saying that the new name _sounded_ stupid.

Despite the fights that guest house, Gosalyn was delighted to be part of that world that months ago had been totally foreign for her, engaging in the strategy discussions between Darkwing and Gizmoduck, as well as listening to the Gyro's endless rant about mechanical contraptions, leaving the rooster bewildered after hearing the energetic red-haired girl give such crazy ideas (but they didn't sound bad) like automatic crossbows or steam thrusters... In turn, Gosalyn talked for hours with Fenton, listening to his experiences as an immigrant in the Old World, talking about their Latin American ancestry and how to cope with bad experiences with racist idiots... The rest of the time she spent practicing in the shabby courtyard of the pension, improving with archery or with knife-fights with Darkwing... She felt that her self-confidence was back and with more force than ever after having broken through the painful episode in Tunisia: _"I feel that they won't trample me again for being different... And I owe that to you, Dad."_ she had whispered to Drake with enthusiasm when they huddled together in the narrow bed filled with dried peas after the first week there. Drake had said nothing, just pressed her harder against his chest and kissed her forehead repeatedly in the suffocating darkness of the small room, causing the girl to laugh in response.

**...**

Gosalyn had her mouth open when she saw the impressive white stone structure that was in the middle of the square near the Cité palace before Drake had to drag her inside for the audience they had for that day. The red-haired duckling watched astonished all the tributary of legs and skirts in and out around (how many legs, how many shoes in one place!), so that the hunter duck surrounded her with one arm to prevent they would be separated or she would lag behind to stare at the beautiful sculptures, armor or paintings on the walls _("And you haven't seen yet the palace of the popes in Avignon"_ Darkwing said with an arrogant smile and loudly _"they still have the zoo that Juan XXII built, maybe we can go after this...") _...However, something that both began to notice were the number of people of the same hue of fur or plumage like Gosalyn's, but all of very colorful clothes, scarves and earrings being taken out almost between shoves by armed guards towards the exits. Gosalyn felt uncomfortable, so she squeezed her father's fingers as they passed them; Darkwing frowned for a moment.

"Gypsies. Judge Frollo _doesn't_ like them (not even a little, in fact), so asking him for help would be wasting time and money."

"And is that Frollo that we have to see today?" Gosalyn asked in amazement. Seeing her father nod in response, she made a face of apprehension. "And how do you know that he _won't_ receive us with the affection of his guards?"

Darkwing squeezed his beak a moment a moment and then sighed: "...Frollo owes me many favors. And as stern as he may be, he still has a sense of honor and legality."

Arriving at the charge of dispatching visitors, the father and daughter sat waiting in a long and quiet black and white tiled corridor, like a chessboard, (Gosalyn mentioned to Darkwing that her Grandpa was a great player and had taught her to play.), as well as exquisite oil paintings of various subjects, since the bloody French Revolution as religious maidens in martyrdom. After a while talking, Gosalyn began to get bored of sitting on the hard wooden bench and proceeded to settle in Drake's lap, who, although at first raised an eyebrow at the sudden gesture, his expression softened to a loving and mischievous smile, wrapping the little girl in his strong arms, then thoroughly preening the feathers of her neck and nape with his beak; Although the girl protested at first _("Eww, dad, no! I can do it alone!"_), it soon became clear to Drake that Gosalyn was enjoying every second of his caresses, tilting her head to give him more access, shivering and laughing at the tickle. When the older duck ended with a loud kiss on her cheek, she squirmed to do the same to him, so Drake allowed it: "Just don't bite, Gos," he said, tearing out a malicious chuckle.

Their innocent games were interrupted when the double wooden doors in front of them opened and a tall old man with white hair, coming out into the corridor at a prevailing pace, like a cat stalking his prey. He wore a long black but elegant robe, with purple and red details, as well as a wide bonnet on the head with a long red ribbon. The man advanced towards the two ducks, with his hands on his back, and his cold gray eyes scrutinizing them thoroughly, almost seeming to pierce them to the soul (Something that made Gosalyn immediately get off her father's lap, straightening her back) ...A wry smile was drawn at the corners of Frollo's thin lips, who made a slight bow: "I'm sorry for the delay. Time has passed, _Maese_ Darkwing (1), my old and feathered friend. What brings you here in my humble house? Have you reconsidered my old proposal to work for me in _'cleaning the dirtiness'_ of this city?"

"I still remember it, my dear Frollo and I still decline, if you don't mind," Darkwing replied with a hint of irony in his voice, narrowing his eyes behind his mask, "I don't see myself stuck in one place. I need to stretch my wings, you know."

"I see. Although I am not surprised by your answer; Hunters are not people of... getting too attached to places or people" Frollo said, looking at the red-haired girl... Then he smiled. "Then let's not waste your time and mine, which is precious, dear Darkwing. _You_, girl," Frollo added dryly, looking at Gosalyn, who blinked. "stay out and _don't_ touch anything. _Other_ gypsy brats have already stolen pieces of my armor."

Gosalyn stared at him, bewildered. Darkwing hastened to say, also dryly: "In fact, this girl is the _reason_ for my audience with the honorable Member, so I would ask for her presence before you… If you don't mind." Judge Frollo looked at him with an unfathomable expression for a few seconds, Gosalyn feared he was going to reject the hearing… Until the judge gave a nod, urging them to come in. Throughout the journey to the judge's private office, Gosalyn felt between nervous and exultant, unable to avoid almost jumping... And the reason _couldn't_ be more inconsequential:

As Drake had told him the first night that they had reached Gyro and Fenton's house, the reason for seeing a judge was to obtain the papers certifying that Drake would be, from now on, Gosalyn's father. As he had told her while they settled in the cot to bed, when he had gone to look for her in the convent-orphanage after the confrontation with Taurus Bulba, he had told to the Mother Superior and Sister Cavanaugh that he planned to use her as his ward to being able to get her out of there without raising suspicion: _"I had believed that having you as ward would be enough, but I was wrong, Gos: Not only because you would still be unprotected by the authorities in case you were separated from me, but it also seemed insufficient... You are more, much more than just an apprentice to me. You're my daughter, and I want to protect you from any eventuality. " _Drake had murmured, moving her bangs from her beautiful green eyes, proceeding to kiss her sweat-soaked forehead by a fever.

Frollo sat down on the huge and luxurious carved wooden desk that was elevated, organizing papers and reading the letter Darkwing had given him, while throwing strange glances at the two ducks that were waiting in front of him. Both Drake and Gosalyn took advantage of those moments to look around: A chimney wide enough to roast an ox, so there were wicker grilles that a servant constantly soaked; there were more pictures of martyrs or saints in the dark lined walls, all with tragic expressions. Everything gave a dark and enclosed air, despite the tall and narrow windows where the midday sun filtered. Frollo finished reading and raised an eyebrow at the masked hunter: "Certainly this _surprises_ me, and _more_ coming from you, Maese Darkwing… Tell me, what _mess_ have you gotten into so that you are asking me to assert your fatherhood for this..." And the look he gave Gosalyn from his seat was _unequivocally_ distasteful _"...gypsy?"_

"Let me clarify that detail, Judge Frollo: Gosalyn Waddlemeyer is _not_ a gypsy, but a Latina." Darkwing pointed out coldly. " ...I know it's a detail that particularly _disturbs_ you." He paused to emphasize those words: The hunter duck knew the judge and his well-known dislike of the gypsies; He made an effort not to smile wryly before Frollo's face, then added: "Regarding what you ask, Your Honor: It's _no_ mess I have gotten into... I just ask that this little girl be recognized as my daughter, with all that that entails legally."

"...I see." Frollo muttered dryly, looking alternately at both Gosalyn and Darkwing... Then, he sighed and gave them a stern look... But Darkwing caught a strange glow in his gray eyes. "...These young people now, unable to restrain the impulses of their hearts and don't look at the consequences of their actions... Although, my friend Darkwing, you're _not_ the first to come here to ask me to _legitimize_ bastard children."

_"Bastard children?!"_ Drake and Gosalyn thought at the same time. Gosalyn looked furiously at the judge, enduring the desire to tell him something enough hurtful. What he had just said was an _insult_ to her parents whom, although it was true that she lost them at a very early age in order to remember them, Grandpa Waddlemeyer had _always_ told her about them as a loving couple who was happy with her, as her baby... Then a growl pulled her out of her grandfather's memories: Drake was livid, and his icy blue eyes _almost_ sparked.

"...Gosalyn is _not_ a bastard kid, and I strongly urge you, Judge Frollo, _not_ to disrespect her in front of me." Darkwing said in a low, serious tone that sounded more dangerous to the girl than when he was yelling. "She has lost her biological family and I want to adopt her legally... And that's why I turn to you, because of all the favors that you owe me."

Judge Frollo glared at Darkwing for a moment, as if he were looking for a reply to that ... Then he put his fingers together on the table. "You're right, Maese Darkwing, I don't deny the favors and services you have given me in the past, and you know that I have always praised your ingenuity, dexterity and determination... But you're ask me much for this: Why do you insist on recognizing yourself as the father of _this_..." He cleared his throat "..._Girl_, if she is not even from your own blood? I _could_ understand it if she _is_ a product of sin, but if she isn't―"

"Blood _only_ serves to make black pudding, my dear Judge." Darkwing interrupted him crudely, throwing a heavy bag of coins at the center of his desk... Gosalyn almost laughed at the face the judge had put on for the sudden bribe... After a few seconds they seemed eternal, Claude Frollo finally took the bag and slid it to hide under his desk, being watched all the time by the cold eyes of the hunter. After frowning, the judge leaned over a new scroll and began to write.

* * *

"Usually this procedure would take several weeks... But thanks to your generous pressure, I would be ready for the following week, since I have to attend, due to my position, that horrendous celebration known as the Jester Festival." Frollo said indolently as his 'clients' were about to take the exit from his office "...by the way, I want to give you some advice, Darkwing, not as your former client and my recent client, but as someone who had appreciated your potential." Darkwing and Gosalyn stopped halfway. Gosalyn smiled at her father and told him that she would come forward to fix the steeds outside and left him alone. Doubting a moment, the white mallard turned slowly to the_ 'impolutive'_ judge, expectant: "...You _must_ _restrain_ that passion you profess for this girl, Darkwing. What you do is very _inappropriate_ as a representative of the good over the evil."

"What do you mean?" Darkwing asked in a seemingly polite tone, but clearly tense. The judge looked at him with his scrutinizing eyes, inquisitives...

"Since you've made a bad play for me, let me make it clear that I also made one to you, Maese Darkwing: Do you see that painting there on your right? It represents Saint Lucy (2), the one who took her eyes out to _avoid_ falling into the dirtiness... Now I use her, God bless her, to see the _dirtiness_ of others... And I think I _have_ _seen_ you in very _inappropriate_ acts with that girl, who isn't even your daughter... yet."

Darkwing was sweating cold. Was Frollo spying on them when they were playing and consenting to each other? He wanted to stutter an excuse, but realized that he couldn't do it... Minimum would make the judge think that the real reason to legalize the adoption of Gosalyn was to mask some serious sin committed with her... And yes, Darkwing had already sinned for her... And he would do it again if necessary; So he stood up how tall he was, giving a haughty look to the unperturbed judge "...You can _hardly_ restrain that passion as you call it, although I prefer to call it love, my dear judge, less when that has brought you an impossible joy to match anything else."

"Earthly joys are intense in the immediate enjoyment, but bitter in the long term. As beings endowed with reason and fearful of the power of God that we are, we shouldn't be taken the passions, we should cool our fervor to avoid falling into the temptations offered by the demons against which we fight... Tell me, _Maese_ Darkwing, that love that is consuming your soul like _hellfire_... _Wouldn't_ it have been an act of witchcraft by that creature? Her hair is red, _like_ the fire itself..."

Darkwing didn't respond to that, he simply excused himself, retreating between cold sweats and tremors of rage and indignation. Alone, Frollo sighed and looked at the paternity letter, whose ink was still fresh... Although for a moment he thought of throwing it into the fire, he left it alone. He stared at the chimney flames.

"…_Have_ mercy on them, _as much as _you have mercy on me, Blessed Mary."

**…**

Summer was moving slowly, heating everything under the soft May sun. Gosalyn had asked to go to see some street shows and eat a cream pie at a nearby restaurant. Drake had agreed to this because not only because the girl had made that pouty gesture that drove him crazy, but also because of the relief and joy of receiving, through a messenger, the letter approved by Judge Frollo, (At the time reading it, Gosalyn had thrown herself on him, shrieking in excitement as much as Fenton) so he decided to pamper her and spend a whole day as an ordinary father and daughter, mixing in the crowd. They decided to do it the day after receiving the letter, leaving only with a couple of basic weapons just in case.

"Have fun, guys! I will join you later, now that Gyro is done with this, I could even convince him to go too!" Fenton said from the gate, already with Gizmoduck's armor on, to which the scientist, next to him, gave him a scowl and dragged him back inside, between the sound of metal falling down the floor with a clatter.

That day there were many shows of clowns, acrobats and magicians on that avenue. Gosalyn's eyes gleamed as she jerked Drake's arm from one stall to another to see as many as they could, even though the adult duck insisted they had all day to do that... Even so, Darkwing smiled fondly at the energy of the young redhead for things as childish as seeing a street clown give her a balloon or taste a _crème brulee_, still with its crust burning: _"Even after everything she's lived, all the blood and death that she has seen, she still has that wild innocence."_ He thought, letting himself be carried meekly to every place that his daughter was dragging him.

As the afternoon went by and it was getting dark, the father and the daughter walked down a wide but little busy street, talking happily about anything, until a sudden shiver spurred the feathers on the back of their neck, making them stop. The white mallard was already scrutinizing around him in search of some enemy, while he felt inside his jacket in search of his gas gun. Gosalyn stuck instinctively against his father, searching for the hidden knife... Until a gray shadow was thrown at then with a rapidity of vertigo. "Separate now!" Darkwing shouted, causing them both to run in opposite directions of the street, while the other passersby ran through screams of horror. The white duck threw himself behind a garbage can and pointed to the shadow. The red-haired girl noticed that the winged creature had black feathers and was painfully familiar... Then she opened her eyes wide in pure horror.

"Dad...! I mean, Darkwing, that's the vulture that kidnapped me!"

"What?!" But the duck couldn't say anything else, for two even bigger figures jumped from a roof with their teeth extended towards them. Darkwing responded by giving a blow with his Khukuri (3) that he had just removed from the flap of his waist, managing to cut the face of one of them, making him let out squeals of pain. The dim darkness prevented seeing well what was going on around, but those noises that the creature made when hurting it were enough for the mallard to realize. "You... you are..."

"_Like you_, we _return_ from the dead, Darkwing Duck!" Hammerhead Hannigan shouted, landing from a roof, revealing his half-charred face in the moonlight, with his jaws open, giving a demonized air. Near him, feet, the other monsters got angry, fighting with Gosalyn, while the girl defended herself as best she could "…And not only us, our master Taurus Bulba is looking for you!" Both the father and the daughter left stunned. Darkwing growled:

"Bullshit! He got caught in the tower when everything exploded, he was burned, so he's dead..." But a jerking laughter was heard from the vampire goat. "What the hell are you laughing at!?"

"Mortal fool, _just as_ you came out of hell, Dipwing, also our master did! And you'll love knowing he's looking for you, yes, Taurus Bulba is alive...! To skin the brat in front of you and then tearing your eyes out...!" At that moment, Darkwing attacked him, turning upside down with his dagger, his eyes _glistening_ with fury. Hannigan smiled: "Are you furious, clown in disguise? For something they say that who sleeps with children dawns wet (4), hahahahaha!"

_"...Stop there, evildoer of darkness!"_

Before the sudden voice, Hannigan was distracted for a few seconds trying to find the origin, something that Darkwing took advantage of to take a right blow with his dagger, reaching to cut off Hannigan's face, who backed away and then lashed out against the duck... Gosalyn, a few meters away from him, managed to fool her two opponents, now fully identified as Hoff and Mouth, causing them to hit each other in the dark, while throwing arrows at the vulture, who dodged them between squawks, then pounced on her and grab her from behind. The girl started screaming for help while trying to free herself. "I'm going to pluck you entirely, crap bird!"

"Gosalyn!" The white mallard exclaimed running to where she was, noticing horrified that the demonized vulture was rising more and more from the rooftops… No, that couldn't happen again… Not now, not after so much time to seek a time of happiness and tranquility for her... Until a steel ball, coming out of who knows where, crashed into the eye of the vulture, letting the girl drop in the air. Drake ran to her, catching her in his arms. Then, in the air, near them, an imposing metal-clad figure came out to chase Hoff and Mouth, as well as Hannigan. "Gizmoduck?!"

"The only and unrepeatable, this new armor is great!" Gizmoduck said waving two huge machetes, making them flee. "And don't come back, monsters of evil!" He sighed and lifted the visor of his combat helmet, looking at the two ducks. "Are you okay guys?" ...A death silence followed. Fenton stared at them: Gosalyn was pale, her eyes wide with horror... Darkwing was covered in a cold sweat and his gaze was lost... As if he had seen a ghost... _"Guys?"_

* * *

In a matter of days, things got worse at a terrifying level: The news of the seemingly _resurrection_ of Taurus Bulba caused a _stir_ among the hunters' guilds, according to the information that Drake and Fenton obtained thanks to the communiqués and telegrams. Every night there were attacks by vampires, especially by Bulba's minions, which turned out to be more in number and therefore, a serious pain in the ass for experienced hunters, no matter Darkwing and Gizmoduck joined forces against them, returning to the guest house with wounds, dents (In feathers or metal) and new information from this new threat: Bulba was regenerating, he had created an army and was planning a super weapon, he would be approaching in a matter of days, he was looking for Darkwing Duck to pluck him completely and pluck the girl that came with him... In other words, after leaving a terrible situation, now the small Mallard family was about to be swallowed by a much worse problem.

Drake was stressed; not only because of the mere thought that Bulba was alive, something at first sight impossible, but that he was looking for him... and Gosalyn. Thinking about Gos precisely, Drake had seen how the revelation of the return of that demonic bull had left her catatonic for those moments and with her eyes lost for the rest of that night, barely responding to Drake or Fenton's desperate attempts to speak with her, or worse, Gyro's panic words about all that:

"If it is true that rumor that Bulba is recruiting scientists forcibly for his plans, I have to flee before he catches me!" He said as he stirred papers from the table, while Lil 'Bulb was turning a brass world globe to see where they could hide. The worst thing is that Gyro's terror wasn't unfounded: When Gosalyn came out of her brief mutism, she was able to tell what had happened to her Grandpa... They realized that they _weren't_ _safe_, that it wasn't wise to _stay_ there.

* * *

That night they had dinner alone, since Gyro had locked himself in the underground lab with Fenton, working counter-clock with the latest armor update before making preparations for the escape. Outside, the stillness was almost creepy, although sometimes it was cut by slight shouts, surely by a new victim of a night monster... Gosalyn looked at her stew dish with a frown, but it wasn't because it was badly cooked, and also looked at her father, also in an eloquent silence... Since they had had a heated discussion hour before:

_"Are you serious, dad?!" Gosalyn screamed with clenched fists. In front of her, Darkwing just looked at her, seemingly unperturbed to the altered state of the girl. "Do you intend to stay while you send me somewhere else?! Did you lose your mind or what?!" _

_"...Gos, I'm standing in front of you, you don't have to shout and reveal our position to the enemies," Drake said sternly. While the red-haired duckling was breathing with agitation, he continued: "…I can't let Bulba have you again, you must be safe." _

_"Then I will never have the opportunity to avenge my Grandpa! They are out there, dying of laughter as we hide here, like scared mice! They killed him, they took advantage of him, he…!"_

_"Gosalyn!" Drake exclaimed gripping her tightly on her forearms; The girl had tears of rage and her green eyes glowed wildly. "To be a hunter is NOT to jump into the rough, one must be smarter than them! I thought you already knew that, and that's why I can't let you stay! Your grandfather wouldn't have wanted you to take a chance like that, he wanted you to live, away from this crap!" _

_"...Grandpa wanted some hunter to help him, and nobody arrived." Gosalyn replied in a low and poisonous tone. Drake paled and for a moment his face contracted. "What makes you think that you know what I should do or not regarding Grandpa?"_

_Drake paled even more and for a moment he thought to slap her in reprimand... But then he sighed: "...Because I'm your father, and you must obey me, Gosalyn. I will make sure that Bulba and all those clowns pay in this life and the other what they did to your grandfather and you... And that is a promise, my daughter of mine." Drake hoped that those words would reach her and make her understand... But it managed to alter her more:_

_"Promise, you say?! I HATE that word! They NEVER fulfill what they promise me, Grandpa promised me that we would be together and that did not happen! It's like telling me you're going to the slaughterhouse, dad! How can you tell me such a thing?!" She screamed, twisting from his grip, trying to let go, so Drake squeezed tighter her in his arms. "Let me go, let me go now...!"_

Neither Fenton, nor Manny, nor even Gyro said anything to the violent outburst of the two of them.

Drake tried to tell him something, just finding himself giving up at the last second, seeing the sullen and hurtful silence of the girl in front of him. He bit his tongue, remembering those words spoken with such anger and pain... Gosalyn had already suffered a lot of disappointment and loss in her young life... Could she afford another? For a moment he thought about giving up his idea, already drawn with Fenton and agreed among other known hunters via telegraph, and simply running away with her somewhere else_... "I'm tired of running away; I don't want to go on with this shit anymore."_ He thought squeezing the glass full of wine badly made, so its flavor was very regular. _"I'm tired of giving that life of a cowardly wanderer to Gos, she doesn't deserve it, she deserves a fucking quiet life, damn it!"_

...He couldn't back down, he had to do it, he had to do it for her.

* * *

The inhabitants of that small house left with the lights of dawn two days later, noting that many people had begun to leave their homes, leaving everything as a ghost town. Inside the small carriage, Fenton nervously fiddled with the strap of a huge military bag where the armor was, while Gyro made the final touch-ups to his helmet. Manny was the one who pulled the hidden carriage, while Lil'Bulb drove it with surprising skill. Inside, apart from the rattling sound of the wheels, the silence was intense. Fenton had tried to talk about how things would happen for Gosalyn in the New World, where he would travel with Gyro, Manny and Lil'Bulb. Although the brown duck showed her that she would do very well while waiting for her father, she didn't react. Drake, sitting next to her, also said nothing.

It took a whole day to reach the port of Boulogne, where the boats were ready to take terrified travelers to take them, some to England, some to the United States of America. Thanks to the telegraph conversations with Gyro's employer, Scrooge McDuck, they can depart on a ship and arrive in New York. When Gyro spoke about Gosalyn, Scrooge doubted in one of his telegrams: **"Nine-year-old girl on a ship. She is going to risk herself a lot. I can receive her since I worked with his grandfather before. But be very careful."**

That certainly wasn't say it lightly: According to Gyro, Scrooge had also traveled to America in a boat full of emigrants like him, hungry, irritated... And some with very bad habits and manners with the weakest or smallest... The last thing said with emphasis looking at the red-haired girl. Drake clenched his teeth, recalling that hellish image in the Tunisian bar, which was still an open wound in the memory of the two... That could be repeated again and he wouldn't be there to avoid it. But she couldn't stay with him either... They were with pure bad choices.

At dusk the day before the trip, Drake and Gosalyn finished eating in front of the fire of the makeshift camp built between them and Fenton, since Gyro was a dismal in that kind of work. They plunged into the silence of the mangrove grove that bordered the harbor, occasionally interrupted by other future exiles who were nearby, or by improvised guards. Although Drake had thought about patrolling in the company of Fenton and Gosalyn, she had asked him to stay, because they had to talk; The white mallard had accepted, despite fearing for a moment that the red-haired girl would insist on staying in that hell and, therefore, having a fight again... Even when he wanted more than anything to make the most of those last hours with her... How long would they be separated? Weeks, months... years? Hell, this was _so_ _unfair_...

"Dad, I was thinking..." Gosalyn began, watching the fire crackling faintly, with her arms around her knees. "...You tell me that you promise me to be together after this, right? That you send me to a "safe place" and then you'll come for me later... is that so?"

Drake sighed and then approached her, posing his hand on one of her shoulders, noticing the extremely tense girl. "…Gosalyn, if I _have_ to provoke a massacre to fulfill what I promised you, then I _will_ do it; I do it because I want to give you the life you deserve and that the damn Taurus Bulba took away from you, because it is my responsibility as a father... And it is not only my responsibility, but because I'm also born to do it," he said with conviction, sliding his hand down her arm until he took one of her hands, and squeezed it. "..._You know_ I love you, right? I love you, my sweet, and that's _why_ I'm doing this."

"...As I told you before, dad... They've _already_ promised me things _before_ and _every_ time they've failed me... What makes this different" Drake opened his mouth to protest, but she continued, staring into his eyes: "...I _need_ a _guarantee_."

"...A _guarantee_?

"When I lived with my grandfather, there were many books I read secretly about him, bloody things, monsters and strange rituals," she began with a sad and nostalgic smile. "...heh, if he knew now, he would have been shocked and ground me for a month."

Drake in turn smiled to his regret. "And he would be right, that's not the kind of book that a little girl your age should read."

"Well, there was something that interested me... And it's something they do when you make a promise and want it to be serious, to be... difficult to forget. Leaving you a visible mark... that reminds you that it exists..." She looked down moment and then looked into his eyes. "...If we are going to make a promise, Dad, then... I _want_ that guarantee_... I beg you."_

Her voice trembled at the sudden and excessive inspiration she had, and the shoulders of the hunter duck shuddered, and not precisely because of the cold... Because there is _profanity_ and _consecration_ at the same time in what she had just hinted she wanted to do: It was the blood oath of the brothers in arms and that of the legendary lovers, the oath of the Templars, King David and the Great Khan (3). It was the oath of bodies, more powerful than that of any word. The two creatures (or more) that pronounced it were more _united_ than twins, they had to protect themselves in everything and swear a loyalty _until_ death.

There was a long, almost unbearable silence. A cicada cried without consolation, confusing itself with the enigmatic sounds of the forest, but it was as if at that moment nothing was heard but the increasingly intense pressure in her ears, _barely_ daring to breathe.

With a frown, Darkwing took out one of his many daggers, the sharpest he had, which flashed terribly in the orange light, then extended his left palm with his fingers extended, as if he was going to give alms. She stared at him expectantly, almost challenging him to continue. Drake, without looking away from Gosalyn's green eyes, with a firm hand, wounded himself; blood ran and began to drip abundantly through his white plumage, flooding the air of his smell. Losing her fear completely, Gosalyn extended her right hand, seeing the steel cut the down of her hand quickly, emanating the blood like the juice of a fruit, so she did her best not to close her eyes. The fear of pain, rather than the physical pain itself, made the corners of her beak twitch. Then she brought her palm to her father's and squeezed it, covering how much she could do to join the two wounds, interlacing her fingers with his, while letting out low moans of pain. Both felt the contact of the exposed flesh that was approaching for the first time, and of that warm blood that belonged to them... They said nothing, it was not necessary at all. They lasted for several minutes, only concentrating on the stabbing pain of both lacerations, dripping mixed, little by little, on the ground.

Drake's free hand dropped the dagger and grabbed the little girl's waist, drawing her close to him with the ease of a rag doll, partly because Gosalyn, dizzy in a strange ecstasy for the ritual, was carried away with joy. The white mallard placed her in his lap, pressing her against his chest, as if he was cradling a sick child. The red-haired girl saw him moved his lips, but at first she didn't hear him, because the violent throbs of his heart against her ear was all she could hear... When making an effort, she smiled placidly and closed her eyes: _"...Close your eyes, little girl blue, inside of you lies a rainbow..."_

Suddenly, a sudden tug in her hair brought her back to reality: With his free hand, Drake had passed the dagger in a clean cut, almost touching the scalp's edge, getting rid of her ponytail. She couldn't help taking it with her unharmed hand and seeing the loose red strands with some sadness, as well as a strange sense of abandonment in the head... This was real, it was really happening... She pressed herself more against her father, ignoring the sharp pain in her hand. Having finished the work, the masked duck hunched over and joined his forehead with that of his girl, as if securing mutual belonging, closing his eyes. She left them open, savoring the moment, aware that she would _never_ experience another moment so _intimate_ in her life... Releasing her hand from the grip, she gently passed her wounded hand from her father's left cheek to his large beak, leaving a warm trail of her blood on him. The icy blue eyes opened again and stared at her, but she wasn't afraid. She would never have it with that man. She felt Darkwing slowly rise, still carrying her. (And being honest, she greatly appreciated it: she felt your legs like jelly) "Where are we going?" She murmured, internally awaiting the hope that her father had changed his mind. He looked at her with a mischievous gesture in his beak.

"We have to wash ourselves, right? It would be stupid to stay here and have our smell attract some animal, less a vampire."

"Damn..." she murmured, snuggling closer to him, smiling slightly. That 'our' from Darkwing had sounded so real, so right...

* * *

Fenton and Gyro apparently didn't notice their absence when they saw them return to the camp... And, in fact, Fenton innocently asked if they had had an accident, because they had a bandaged hand and judging by the blood still soaking the bandages, it was recent ... Drake and Gosalyn shrugged and said in unison: "Damn blackberries." The night continued to move insultingly fast, but neither of them wanted it to be dawn. Lying against a log and looking at the stagnant waters of the adjacent mangroves, Drake held Gosalyn against his chest, as she wrapped her legs around his waist and circled his neck between her small arms, dedicating themselves during the last hours to pampering and preening each other. The girl rubbed her face against her chest, still insisting with that: "Let me _stay_ with you," she begged. Drake sighed. "I _don't_ want to leave; I want to stay here."

"Gos, we _talked_ about this; You _must_ obey me, I know why I do it, don't you see that I know this world _better_ than you? They will persecute us until we go crazy, we cannot live locked up, that wouldn't be fair to you… I don't want to do this to you," Drake insisted, brushing the now short hair of the girl. "There, you will have more opportunities, make a life apart from mine… You will learn a job, so you _won't_ have to depend on anyone, not even me. Nothing will be missing, my dear."

"I won't miss anything if I'm with you," Gosalyn insisted, clenching to his uniform with her fists, "please, please, don't send me there."

Drake winced. "I do it because I love you so much and I want the best for you; One day _you'll_ understand, Gos."

"Don't tell me that because I will never understand! Never!"

"Sshhhhh... let's not talk about it now," her father whispered, squeezing her harder in his arms, "Come, come here, we still have some hours left."

**…**

...The morning lights had already passed, but the cold of the fog was still present, so the red-haired boy with dark plumage, who was still standing on the stern of the ship from the moment they had sailed, wrap her small body with a purple cape with dark pink lining. He stood there, like a stake, staring at a point in the harbor that they had left behind for hours. Around him there was a chaos of people: Mothers trying to calm their children that were screaming, drunks, hashish smokers who wrapped the air in pestilence, people praying shouting from the bow, or some who were simply wrapped in blankets or in what they had at hand, looking at the ocean almost in a thoughtful way, thinking about what they would do at the time they reached their destination in the other side to the ocean.

"Hey boy, are you going to stand there all day? They already served breakfast a while ago, you're going to run out of nothing." One of the ladies said approaching the redhead, who turned around, scrutinizing with his greenish gaze... When he opened the purple cape a little, a huge piece of bread rested between his fingers. The woman was perplexed and, in fact, almost drooling envy and greed to see the bread.

"With this I'm fine, ma'am." Thank you. Can you look for a rooster called Gyro Gearloose? He wears glasses and a yellow hat, oh, and have a light bulb as a pet." the boy replied breaking a piece of bread to show it to her. The lady, nodding enthusiastically, withdrew to look for that person, although she could not help thinking:

_"He has a strangely feminine voice n for a boy..."_

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUE **

**Author's Note:**

**(1)** _Maese_ was the expression given to the person who was an expert or a veteran in the job that is doing.

**(2)** Saint Lucia or Lucia de Syracuse was a Christian virgin and martyr. She is considered the saint of sight due to the multiple legends related to her eyes, from herself tearing her eyes away to scare a suitor, or having them ripped out by force during her martyrdom.

** (3) Khukuri/Kukri:** Great curved knife with Nepalese origin, used as a tool and also as a knife.

**(4)** In this case, the saying is taken _literally_, not figuratively.

**(5) **_Blood oaths _or_ Blood twinning_ were rituals of sealing promises or alliances, made through the contact of blood through wounds or with the blood drinking of the participants; It existed both in the Christian West and in Islam. The ritual can seal a promise or an act of companionship or love.


	6. That purgatory of the hissing arrow

**Shade:** We're now in the "separated ways" of Drake and Gosalyn. Next one will be entirely Drake's POV

**Part six: **

**That purgatory of the hissing arrow.**

"People say that if you throw a bottle into the sea with a written wish, it will come true."

"Oh yeah? So what if I throw a bottle with the wish that I want to be richer than Uncle Scrooge?

"Louie, you know _that's_ mathematically impossible, right?"

"Well, nothing is lost!" What are you saying, Gosalyn?"

The aforementioned raised her head when she heard her name, after spending a while looking at the greenish waves on the shore where she and the children of the McDuck clan had come to wet their feet and (according to Louie), look for treasures hidden in the muddy sand of the port.

Two months had passed since Gosalyn Mallard had arrived at the port of Duckburg, wrapped in a huge purple cloak, her hair cut like a _penitent_ and accompanied by Gyro and his assistants, although she knew very well that she was just the one added in the equation. The boat trip had been difficult, full of external and internal storms: Along with hitting themselves against the walls of the huge precarious room that served for everyone in the ship's hull due to sea storms, the atmosphere of many people pressed against each other, with little ventilation (added to the smell of cheap alcohol and cigarette smoke... Gosalyn already was _missing_ the whiskey and soft wine that her dad always drank) and insufficient food caused an unhealthy atmosphere; Fights for food, for space, for even nonsenses, were common throughout the trip.

Assaults were the order of the day, many of them directed at women and girls... Gosalyn had clenched her teeth as she saw embarrassing scenes towards the girls, from despicable long hands sliding under skirts, girls literally cornered against the walls to suffer as the _"preys",_ or almost aggressions while they slept; Gosalyn was grateful that Darkwing had cut her hair to pose her as a boy and _thus_ never _again_ be a _victim_. In addition to the habit she acquired from him of always sleeping holding on to a dagger, luckily she _hadn't_ had any kind of incident like _that_.

Gyro Gearloose, for his part, couldn't bear boat trips. When there were storms he got to the point of almost bellowing and cursing in fear while Lil'Bulb and Manny tried to calm him down. He and Gosalyn both tried to stay together for company, even though it was mostly silent and almost awkward, each thinking about what was going on the continent, with Darkwing and Gizmoduck, alone in the firing line and the soon-to-be _pandemonium__of death_ that they left behind.

After many days of bumpy travel, the steamboat finally reached the shores of Duckburg. Before leaving, Gyro had agreed with his boss to wait for him at the port, where accompanied by a dizzy Lil'Bulb and Manny, as well as a taciturn Gosalyn, they walked through the port full of immigrants. Gosalyn tried to keep up with the rooster, but she was constantly pushed from side to side by the narrow crowd, so much so that Manny grabbed her by a hoof so she wouldn't get lost. Coming out of the stifling mass, they encountered an elderly duck wearing a cane and top hat, but with a presence and energy _not__at all_ suited to his age. When greeting and exchanging a few words with a scientist, he knelt down a little to see Gosalyn.

"So ye're the little urchin that Darkwing Duck hooked up with, right?" The duck asked her with a strong Scottish accent. Gosalyn didn't know what to answer. Then Scrooge McDuck's expression softened with a sad smile. "Aye, professor Waddlemeyer was an extraordinary man, I worked with him a few times, always had a good impression from him. I'm very sorry for his death, so as long as yer close to the McDuck clan, ye'll be well provided, lass."

Gosalyn felt groggy, still dealing with her grandfather's pain coupled with the pain of being separated (who knows how long) from her beloved father... And the still throbbing pain of the wound that they had caused together, barely healing. She looked the old duck in the eye. "I appreciate your kindness, Mr. McDuck..."

"Please, lass, _call me_ Mr. Scrooge. Mr. McDuck is just for my clients, hehe."

"...Okay, Mr. Scrooge," Gosalyn continued with a grimace. "But I would like to have a job, something I can support myself and pay for your hospitality, while I wait for my dad's return."

"Yer father?" Scrooge replied in surprise. "Don't tell me... _Oh_, is that so?"

_"Clap Clap Clap"_ ("_Yes, he adopted her_")" Manny answered for her. Gosalyn looked down. Scrooge sighed, thinking how to cheer him up, so he leaned closer so that she could hear him amid all the hubbub around them.

"_What_ a noble act, I _envy_ him. I only recently met my grand-nephews, so I'm still discovering many things. Surely ye will meet them today at dinner... Oh, and of course ye can work, Miss Mallard (Yes dear lass, I am _one_ of the _few_ with the _privilege_ of knowing the secret identity of Darkwing Duck, but the secret is _safe_), work dignifies man, I also started like this, cleaning shoes when I was a child! Later we'll see what ye can do while Darkwing does his job and returns... But it will be after that. Mrs. Beakley, my assistant, has made a cake of blackberries that are to die for... And no, ye cannot miss it, she makes for a whole garnish."

Still feeling overwhelmed by all that help, Gosalyn Mallard smiled.

**…**

Gosalyn couldn't lie, the food was delicious, and added to the days of scarce and more and more rotten food, the girl ate like a recently rescued castaway, competing voraciously with the three male children of that house, whom were presented to her that same day: Huey, Dewey and Louie. They were identical, but not only could they be distinguished thanks to their outfit colors. Huey was the intellectual in red, Dewey the athlete in blue and Louie the accountant in green.

To tell the truth, the triplets at first didn't know what to think of that girl of the same age as them, with a boy's haircut and that purple cape that even she seemed to even sleep with it... But only one afternoon was needed so that they started to like her: Gosalyn was energetic, cunning, and a great markswoman; she is, the _antithesis_ of the other child member of the house, Webby... Which almost fell on the redhead when she learnt that _'Gos'_ was actually a girl.

"A girl! _Finally!_ I'm Webby! Do you _like_ pink, do you like sweets...? Do you like crazy adventures?!"

"Well..."

"Webbigail, _let_ her breathe." Webby's grandmother, Mrs. Beakley, an older but physically strong woman, gently rebuked her. Gosalyn couldn't help but giggle.

"Well... I'm not a fan of pink, really, my dad is who _really_ likes it; I love sweets and... I've already had a lot of crazy adventures, so it won't kill me to have another one." She didn't finish saying that when Webby squeezed her in a bear hug.

"_Woo-oo!_ A new friend! Isn't it great?!"

"You're going to suffocate your new friend," Louie pointed out. The duckling in green looked up at her, petulantly arching his eyebrows. "So you've already been on crazy adventures? What does your father do, is he also a treasure seeker like Uncle Scrooge?" He suddenly narrowed his eyes. "_Doesn't_ he work for Flintheart Glomgold, does he?"

"What?! No! I don't even know who that is; my dad... is a monster hunter. I was accompanying him until then."

After eloquent silence, the triplets and Webby burst into exclamations_: "Woah, that's really cool!" "He could fight against Uncle Scrooge's jumping cane!" "Have you ever seen a mermaid, are they beautiful as the legends say?!" "Do you know if your dad ever snatched gold from an Irish goblin?!"_

Gosalyn tried to answer all the questions and the others that arose as best she could, feeling relieved on the one hand: At least she wouldn't feel like a stranger imposed by circumstances to them in that mansion nestled on the top of a hill, where it could be seen all of Duckburg... And the sea.

...And at the same time she felt a pang of uneasiness every time she mentioned her dad.

* * *

Every day, from 8 a.m. to 1 p.m., Gosalyn came and went on the main street towards Duckburg's main square, then took a side street to a relatively large, but narrow-door, workshop. Generally, it took about twenty minutes walking, where she could see the relatively calm atmosphere of that place... It was as if it was a perfect place for monsters to do disasters at any time... And that disturbed her sometimes; Still, she couldn't help but stare at the sea for a couple of minutes, trying to see if she could see any white, purple and gray blur on any of the ships constantly docking at the port, among immigrants, travelers, and merchandise.

Mr. Scrooge, faithful to his word, had placed her to work as "assistant" to Gyro and his assistants... Although in reality she was doing sweeping and organizing the twisted metals among what was already hopelessly damaged, moderately damaged and what still didn't damaged yet, as well as attending to potential clients in case Manny wasn't available; Gosalyn had noticed that some of those customers were glancing at her, and others were wrinkling their noses in front of her as if she stank, despite the lingering smell of disinfectant and incense she'd put up to counteract the smell of grease and gear oil... And others said directly: _"We will look for another supplier, I don't feel safe going to a place where there're people of color. Thank you."_

At first the red-haired duckling answered them with a look as unpleasant as theirs, but seeing that this could be counterproductive, she limited herself to pretending that they didn't exist, thinking about her new friends she would play with later, with old experiences with her grandfather, with the memory of her father... And the latter grew intense every time she saw the wound, already healed, but which had left a visible and deep scar in her plumage. When the children of the McDuck clan (and McDuck himself) had asked her how such an injury had been done, she had said:

"Dealing with a nasty monster with Darkwing."

In that last conversation they had in the mangroves, father and daughter _agreed_ that the real reason of their equal injuries would remain _secret_ as best they could, since Drake and Gosalyn had technically committed a _sacrilegious_ and _unholy_ act in God's eyes and perhaps would _scandalize_ others if they hear the story. She agreed: This would be an extremely _intimate_ subject between her and her father, no one else... So every night, as she snuggled under the covers of one of the mansion's many guest rooms, Gosalyn turned on her side, looking at the scarred palm, vividly remembering not only the pain of the steel cutting her juvenile flesh, but also the last instructions.

_People were crowding to get on the boat before dawn broke; Amidst the incomprehensible screams of those dozens of unfortunate souls, a little red-haired girl was huddled against the side of an adult purple-robed duck who, leaning forward, caused the cape to fall on the little one's shoulders, covering her like a warm cocoon... She didn't want to go and leave him behind. She really didn't want to._

_"Listen to me, Gos: whatever happens, there will be no force in heaven or on earth that will prevent me from seeing you again. In the meantime, don't let anyone break your spirit, that was what helped you move on after your grandfather left, that was what prompted you to face me fearlessly, as well as Bulba's minions, and all those monsters... Your spirit made me love you like I've never loved anyone before... Keep that spirit, Gosalyn... As I return for you."_

_"I will, Dad." Gosalyn murmured, closing her eyes, smiling. "... And you better not die, because I'm capable of going to hell to find your butt for failing me."_

_"Watch your mouth, miss!" Darkwing chided, squeezing her shoulders and slapping her gently, in reprimand. Then he leaned even closer and sighed in her ear: "Your wish is my law, my sweet."_

_Moments later, the disguised girl climbed onto the boat, trying to stay on the edge of the bow, looking at the rigid figures of Darkwing and Gizmoduck, waving their arms in their direction. She wrapped himself tighter in the purple cloak, remembering his last words:_

_"You're stronger than you think. Bend them with your spirit, my girl."_

Gosalyn opened her eyes, reaching out to grasp the old purple cloak, inhaling it heavily: There was still a faint smell of smoke, whiskey, sweat and blood. The smell of her father.

* * *

Over time and as the weeks passed, Gosalyn gradually learned about the gadgets that Gyro was creating. The rooster scientist was incorporating the red-haired girl in his projects, whether she was holding a wrench or letting her hammering pieces of steel to remove dents; He had realized that the girl, apart from being an apparently tireless energy machine, was pretty clever, giving ideas and suggestions that, although at first he thought were very absurd and ridiculous, in the end they turned out to be very creative. So one day when he was in a better mood than usual (as Mr. Scrooge had approved of his latest idea of using aluminum-based power conductors **(1)**), he handed to the young Mallard an elongated piece of aluminum who had left over from the project, saying:

"Since you already _know_ how to use the blowtorch (surprisingly _without_ melting _someone_ or _something_...), let's do this little design exercise: Let's see what you _can__do_ with this piece. Manny will help you." He added, pointing to the stone horse, who lowered a few blueprints that was carrying and clapped his hoofs in agreement.

"Really?" Gosalyn asked incredulously, weighing the aluminum bar that stood taller than she was standing. "Keeen Gear, I think I know what we could do, Manny."

"Clap Clap Clap? _("What are you planning to do?")"_ The girl smiled.

"Something that I was very good and miss to do. Come on, let's get creative!"

* * *

However, that spirit had begun to fade with the arrival of winter. Duckburg looked like a Christmas postcard, with its streets, houses and trees covered in white, the smell of smoked wood burning spread around all... She, from the balcony of Mr. Scrooge's house, watched the snow fall on the streets and the sea, feeling a horrible urge to cry, while trying to not show it and worry her friends with that, who were chattering around them about setting traps to catch Santa Claus or dressing up as the Krampus **(2)** on the night before the big meal; Gosalyn said yes to all the ideas of her friends, trying by all means that her tears didn't come out.

If none of this _"resurrection"_ of the damned Taurus Bulba (Gosalyn never wasted time to cursing the vampire bull either in her head or out loud) had happened, she'd be spending a different Christmas, she'd be with Drake somewhere, maybe in a bar, or maybe even in the guest house with Gyro, Fenton, Manny and Lil'Bulb... Or maybe they would all have gone to Duckburg for Christmas, meeting their new friends in happier circumstances... She would be really enjoying the holidays, despite her dear grandfather wouldn't being with her.

"Miss Mallard? Why aren't you participating in the children's ploy of setting traps for Santa? Even Mr. McDuck is participating in them... It's because he and Santa don't have a _good_ relationship," Mrs. Beakley said approaching the lonely girl, holding a tray full of steaming cups of chocolate with marshmallows. Gosalyn took one and thanked her, drinking slowly. The old female duck smiled softly at her. "Perhaps that was necessary: A little _sweetness_ in the midst of so much _bitterness_."

"Christmas is coming and I still have no news of my dad... I'm really very happy to be here, and I _thank_ you very much for how kind you all have been with me, but..." She felt burning tears slide down her beak, wiping them brusquely. Mrs. Beakley put her huge hand against the little girl's shoulder.

"It's okay to miss your father and it's okay to feel that way. But you don't have to hide your feelings, because you only _hurt_ yourself... I'm sure Darkwing _wouldn't_ want you to be sad."

"There are so many things I _want_ to tell him and I _can't_, Mrs. B." Gosalyn murmured with a shaky sigh, lowering her eyes. "Like I'm progressing in my project, how I love my work and my friends... But still I feel alone, and people... People look at me like I _stink_. They say I'm bad, and just because of my _color_... They called me _"Zambita"_ and other insults..." She added in a low voice, letting out that bitter memory, not being able to avoid trembling. Mrs. Beakley squatted in front of her and squeezed her shoulders.

"There's a lot of _bad_ and _stupid_ people, my dear, especially those who reject others for such a _stupid_ reason as someone's color... I know it has been and is something painful for you, but you _shouldn't_ let that break you: Darkwing loves you _just_ the way you are, and here we appreciate you _just_ the way you are; It's better that you feel sorry for them, because deep down they're miserable and aimless people, so show them you are way better than them, don't you think?"

Gosalyn smiled tearfully, nodding. Keep fighting despite everything, keep working hard... That was what her Grandpa had told her, Darkwing had told her that too. She knew that the two of them were her engines to get through those unpleasant moments, just as the McDuck clan was now... She couldn't help but jump to the neck of the big assistant and give her a hug, that the old female duck corresponded.

"That's right, that spirit you have doesn't go away. Now... I _think_ Webby and the boys need your help to set the traps up high."

"Yes, Mrs. B.! And thanks!" Gosalyn exclaimed, running toward the hall. The assistant watched her walk away with a smile.

"...You better get back, Darkwing. There is someone _very_ special waiting for you."

* * *

Finally, Christmas came and everyone was gathered at the McDuck mansion to share the lavish Christmas dinner with eggnog, hot chocolate and surprise gifts. Although Gosalyn hadn't felt very comfortable at first being there with them as the "outsider", but the children insisted. Soon they were playing catch with dozens of surprise obstacles and exchanging gifts: The red-haired girl had saved in the workshop and along with the small savings bag she had brought along from the trip, she had brought them simple gifts, including some silver necklaces grossly forged by herself to Webby and Mrs. Beakley, whom thanked her and trying on the necklaces... And then Mr. Scrooge approached the girl and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We couldn't catch Santa (again)... But I think I _got_ something."

Seeing the girl's confused face, the old Scottish duck pulled a tightly rolled piece of paper out of his robe and handed it to her. Gosalyn took it hesitantly, unwinding it slowly... And feeling her throat close a few seconds later. Scrooge squeezed her shoulder, smiling.

"Duckworth picked up a signal on the machine just at midnight yesterday, but we wanted to wait to give it to ye as an extra Christmas present."

Behind him, Huey, Dewey, Louie and Webby poked their heads out, their expressions expectant. Gosalyn's fingers were stiff and a bright smile almost seemed to split her face. Her gaze refused to leave the message made in typewriter letters, although extremely brief in appearance, they were full to the final point of love and concern for her:

**_"Still alive. Thinking of you. And I'll come back for you. Have a good time these holidays._**

**_Dad."_**

**…**

They worked intensely for the rest of the winter and when spring was breaking. Holding the blowtorch and guided by Manny, Gosalyn carefully marked the designated stroke, trying not to get carried away by the excitement she felt: Other than the Darkwing telegram that was not only proof of survival, but also a reaffirmation that his mind was with her... Lil'Bulb had brought her what the girl had been looking for a long time: Pure nylon.

Even Gyro was curious about the _"little personal project" _as she called it.

"It will have to be tested before being prototyped, but we need a test subject...

"It's my project, I'll do it," Gosalyn replied resolutely, using a red-hot needle to start making marks throughout the design, making small and stylized letters one by one and very carefully...

_"There is something I want to show you!" Webby had said to her as they entered the room of the duckling of pink clothes. Behind them the triplets were laughing at some joke that Gosalyn had been unable to catch. The Wanderquack girl approached a huge wooden hope chest in one corner, taking out a key. "Today is Saturday and it's raining, do you know what that means?" She asked her new friend with a huge smile. The redhead hesitated._

_"Ehhh... Day of playing ball in the mud?" She said between confused and somewhat yearning: She loved to play in the rain. Webby shook her head, smiling. Dewey exhaled sharply._

_"Oh no... Webby, are you thinking of...?"_

_"Costumes!_

_"...And she said it." Louie murmured, shaking his head. Gosalyn blinked in confusion. Webby explained with bright eyes._

_"Let's each invent a character with a name! I will be the princess; Huey, you will be..."_

_"I'm not going to be the footman again!" The duck in red clothing protested, to the laughter of his brothers. Gosalyn approached the box and began to rummage through the pile of wigs, dresses, masks ... Until she saw something that caught her attention. Grabbing it, she exclaimed: _

_"And I will be...! I'll be Crimson Quackette, the huntress!" She exclaimed, posing with a toy bow. Dewey shook his head in confusion. Louie clicked his tongue._

_"Not bad, Gos, but I think that name had been taken by Huey last time. How about a cool hunter name? Didn't you have one before?" Gosalyn hesitated, then she shook her head. "How about we look for one? It would be like an alter-ego, like Darkwing Duck!"_

_"Sounds great! But what name would it be?" Webby asked. Huey pulled a small booklet from his head cap, leafing through it quickly._

_"According to the Junior Woodchuck Guide, hunters who have guilds or associations, usually choose names or nicknames that are or sound similar to each other, both for security of anonymity and to reinforce membership in the alliance... You should look for something that sounds similar to 'Darkwing', but yours, Gosalyn."_

_"Hmm, what could it be?" The redhead wondered, fiddling with the toy bow, looking for some target. "Dad told me he had chosen his nickname based on 'darkness and the unknown'" she added in a slightly mocking theatrical tone, making her friends laugh. "I don't know... Ehhmm... Maybe something based on my ability?"_

_"Like Arrow Girl?!"_

_"Dewey, that sounds very silly."_

_"What?! I think it's great!"_

_Gosalyn couldn't help but laugh too. They spent the rest of the afternoon searching for a name, while the storm still rattled hard against the large window. When lightning tore through the sky and rumbled the walls of the mansion, Gosalyn leaped onto Webby's costume box, tightening the string on the toy bow, exclaiming arrogantly:_

_"I am the arrow of justice that buries in the throats of the enemies, I am..." And with an accurate shot, the arrow with a rounded tip sent Huey's hat flying and struck it with precision in a painting that was hanging on a wall in the hallway. "Quiverwing Quack!"_

_Webby praised her. Dewey and Louie started laughing at Huey. Gosalyn was exultant, remembering what Huey had read in his guide: A guild, an association... A family. "Dad was called 'DW' among his colleagues... So, I'll be QW."_

* * *

It wasn't just those sporadic signs of Drake's survival that brought the restless young woman a new breath... but something that happened later.

It happened a few weeks later when, when leaving the workshop later than usual, since Gyro had put everyone to work overtime for an early repair that Mr. Scrooge needed for one of his ships, the Sunchaser. It was after 7 o'clock when Gosalyn had finished and was walking alone through the streets around the port to return to Killmotor Hill... When a strange sound made her stop, sharpening her ears... They were muffled screams. At that time there were only a few people on that narrow street, so she decided to run to a fire escape and climb to the top, with the help of a box to climb, managing to reach a roof. From there, she could see a panoramic view of the streets ... And their most hidden corners.

"Help, help!" Someone was shouting from afar. The redhead ran to the other end of the roof, seeing a plump lady with a little boy glued to her skirts, cornered against a brick wall... And a black shadow approaching them. Although Gosalyn had for an instant the absurd fantasy that the shadow was her father and his modus operandi, a sharp growl reached her despite the breeze:

"Give me the bag or I will make your brat _smile_."

"Please, we have nothing, only debts!" The woman screamed, hugging the child. The apparent criminal clicked his tongue.

"Well, it looks like I'll have to give this little boy's _smile_ pattern by _free_..." And something pointy and shiny glittered in front of them...

Gosalyn couldn't think, it was as if she was on autopilot: She pulled the object tied behind her back, taking a rod from the ground and tightening it with the nylon rope to the maximum. Gyro had warned her that it was still a prototype, that it could still be broken... But the aluminum bow felt light and the rod flew swiftly and gracefully to its target: The mugger's head. The woman screeched in dismay when she heard the unmistakable sound of a skull breaking and a body falling to the ground, no longer moving.

Gosalyn was petrified, realizing what happened, beginning to tremble slightly... Not so much because of what she had just done, but because of her father's words in the waters of the Mediterranean: _"It's the first time that I kill another man" _...And now she _did__it_ too. She had _killed_ a man, not a monster... But she had done it to save someone, a child, from a depraved, _just_ as Darkwing _had done_ with her... It was a mixture of terror, amazement and rigidity exploding at the same time, stunning her...

"Thank you, thank you very much!" She heard them yell at her, knocking her out of her whirlwind of thoughts. Gosalyn looked down, seeing that the woman from before was looking directly at her, still hugging her child. "Thanks for saving us!" Who are you?!"

At first Gosalyn didn't know what to say. Obviously, she couldn't say her name, it would be an easy target for that criminal's companions or family to take revenge... Now she fully understood Drake's "_theater boy complex". _The mask _was_ also a _shield_. She cleared her throat and using a thick voice said: "Give thanks to the fast arrow of justice ... Quiverwing Quack!"

And before they could say anything else, the red-haired girl had run away, disappearing in the dark.

...Even so, the following times she went out at night after work, patrolling the roofs in search of criminals and even low-level monsters, shooting them down and going through them with her arrows, improving with her shots, using the darkness to camouflage herself... And hiding her face in a green cloth mask and the bizarre hat that she had worn at the mansion the time she played with Webby and the triplets.

By putting it next to the mask and a green sheet over her dark clothes, she felt herself again in those adventurous times with her father... The feeling of danger, of fighting against monsters of all kinds, she had already _greatly_ missed that. She had the feeling of being _closer_ to her dad, despite the distance... She didn't know how to explain it, but she felt that she was _herself_ again, tightening the bowstring, walking on the rooftops, looking for targets to hunt...

However, she soon realized that this possible new fork in her life in Duckburg was going to be more complicated than she expected ... First she had not yet told her friends or Mr. Scrooge about her "wanderings" when she was leaving of the workshop, taking advantage when the McDuck-Duck clan left the city from time to time. With the work in the workshop and these outings, she had begun to feel exhausted when she got to work or when she was reunited with her friends, who not only noticed the girl's tiredness, but also something that was happening on the streets:

"There are rumors of people saying that there are assailants receiving wounds by a stranger... And are arrow wounds." Mr. Scrooge frowned at the young redhead one afternoon as all the children were playing in the living room, testing the new artifacts the old duck had brought in from his last trip. Gosalyn said nothing. She felt herself flush as she clenched her fists under the pillow she had been using as a shield for Webby's "projectiles". She wanted to think of an alibi, but the old duck held up a hand. "...And it's not _worth_ lying to me, lass: I know very well about the recent project ye did with aluminum... And I really doubt there is such a good marksman in this city since Gizmoduck left..." He smiled sadly. "I _don't_ want to worry, but I do. I _know_ ye can take care of yourself... How long have ye been running away at night, Gosalyn?"

"...I've already lost count, Mr. Scrooge." She murmured, looking down for a moment. "I just wanted... I wanted to try my new bow, to feel again as myself when I was there with my dad... I should have told you, Mr. Scrooge, but I _thought_..."

"That I was _going_ to _forbid_ ye? Although I _can't_ do that, I'm not yer father... But I worry. Don't get me wrong, lass: Ye certainly have done a good job of _"cleaning"_ the city ... But ye can't do it like that, with a piece of cloth over your eyes and a green sheet." Gosalyn didn't know what to say at those words, but then the old duck called Mrs. Beakley and then looked at her again. "Apparently Darkwing has educated ye _on the fly_ and by _improvisation_, due to the circumstances... But, if ye'll _allow_ me, young lass, we are going to do it in a more orderly manner."

"What do you mean by that, Mr. Scrooge?" Gosalyn asked curiously. The Scottish duck raised an eyebrow.

"First of all, making ye remove that green sheet with which some have seen ye running around." He replied as if he didn't want the thing and Gosalyn couldn't help but laugh despite being embarrassed.

**…**

_...1871._

They constantly received news of what was happening across the ocean thanks mostly to telegrams and letters from colleagues and former clients of Mr. Scrooge: The situation was far from resolved. Various parts of the old continent were almost considered _"war zones"_, with attacks by vampires and other creatures of darkness almost weekly. The different Slayer Guilds were up to their necks in desperate requests from civils and kings and those who were lone wolves like Darkwing and Gizmoduck ended up staying in towns to try to defend them… Basically, it was all chaos.

The (few) telegrams from Darkwing and Gizmoduck were like a breath of relief not only for Gosalyn and Gyro (although the latter denied it) and for the rest of the McDuck-Duck clan, as they weren't only the survival test of both warriors, but also that their thoughts were with their loved ones. Unfortunately, they could only receive telegrams from them, as both ducks moved around different places and didn't stay long, making it very difficult to keep track of them.

In those concise messages, Darkwing told his daughter the frustrating slowness of the mission, how the damn Taurus Bulba seemed to disappear like a ghost at the point where the masked duck had located him to annihilate him once and for all, starting again a guessing game to locate the next point where the vampire bull is hidden. He asked her not to faint her faith and spirit, that his mind and heart _were_ with her and he couldn't wait to see her again and live like a family finally.

In her designated room, Gosalyn put the telegrams from Darkwing in an old hope chest, arranged one by one, next to the old cape that she carefully washed, ventilated, about which she sometimes cried when she felt particularly sad and sometimes she use it, imagining herself using it to fight the forces of crime and darkness... Even though on more than one occasion she regretted not having been there, fighting side by side with her father to avenge her Grandpa. Mr. Scrooge had promised her that he would help her develop her bow better so that she could do the cleaning job a little later.

**...**

_...1872._

It hadn't been the best birthday due (once again) to her dad's absence, but Gosalyn couldn't deny that she had received very good gifts, including a cape with a hood and pockets made not only with dark green cloth, but _also_ with the old Darkwing's cape. Webby had done it with the help of Mrs. Beakley, and now she was asking Gosalyn to pose with it in front of a full-length mirror, showing her the face of a thin, thirteen-year-old girl, with some locks of her now long red hair coming out of the hood and framing her vivid green eyes.

Something that Gosalyn had noticed in recent times was that the bad attention that she carried from _"bad and stupid people_" that previously had disdain her for her feather color had now become something else... Just as unpleasant: When she was attending a client in the workshop, some men stared at her without saying anything, as if they were trying to look at her from under her white shirt and black overall... (making her remember with bitter lucidity the infernal penetrating gaze of Mondo in the dark...), and others directly asked her how such an "exotic" girl was working in an environment as unfeminine as that:

_"It's that I think that this wouldn't be the environment in which a lady should be working ...If you allowed me, I could... get you out of this 'bad life'." _

Gosalyn glared irritably at the client, thinking to spill some stinky black grease on his impeccable shirt that she had just removed from an engine, but decided to smile mockingly. "If you consider a_ 'bad life' _working for Mr. Scrooge McDuck... then you will _shit_ diamonds, right?"

Faced with that kind of response, some more rude or blatant than others, some of those annoying "clients" were left with nothing to say, while others looked at her with the same displeasure as those who directly repudiated her because of her color or her condition as an immigrant … Gosalyn couldn't help but laugh at their expressions. Beside her, Gyro was shocked at her responsive behavior.

"I don't think _Maese_ Darkwing likes to ever find out that his daughter talks worse than a sailor or a brigand, you know?" He once told her crudely. The girl sighed, shaking her head, smirking.

"It's possible. Dad would probably punish me by scrubbing my mouth with soap and scouring pad for five minutes... Just _after_ having done a rabid scene of jealous father with the clown who just left."

"But even with those who don't tell you those... Ehm, horrible things, you do that." Gyro argued in disbelief as they continued to work on the broken engine of a small airship. "Last week you denied one of our steel suppliers a date with his son and, to the best of my knowledge, he has never used those expressions on you, miss."

"Ugh, what is it hard for them to accept that I don't want to date anyone?" Gosalyn complained, pulling out the wrench to unscrew a nut, huffing. "I told that guy about three times, and you know what he said? _'You are of an age to be a bride.'_ Damn... If they continue like this, I will have to use Dad as an excuse that I cannot be with anyone until he returns and "gives his approval".

"…Considering how... ejem… _unorthodox_ was Darkwing when it comes to educating a daughter as is seen (and accepted) in our society, I don't think that excuse works."

"Well, they'll have to swallow it." Gosalyn replied resolutely, bending down to extract the elusive nut with the grace of a dentist pulling out a tooth.

Curiously, the excuse was effective... In most of the times. Gosalyn was adamant in her refusal: Her life was too chaotic to looking for a date or worse, getting married **(3).** For her, was more than enough the adventures and outings with Webby, Huey, Dewey and Louie... As well as her weekend outings such as Quiverwing Quack. She had to admit that, by tying the green leather mask and putting on the hood of the cape, it was as if her true being re-emerged after being hidden in a chrysalis of "normality"..._ "Really, man is not just one being, but two: But I don't consider it as good and evil, but rather Gosalyn and Quiverwing, both different, but basically the same 'compound' _**(4)."** She tought as she looked in the mirror before searching for her quiver and her aluminum bow, ready to go into the night, almost always ending up in one of the buildings near the pier, looking at the glittering ocean under the moonlight while she softly sang their lullaby, which was practically a mantra for her:

_"Close your eyes, little girl blue, inside you lies a rainbow..."_

The stillness of the night was sometimes interrupted by the appearance of some criminal and even a monster (Gosalyn giggled the time a vampire had been "imported" to Duckburg on a merchant ship, with a coffin and everything: Luckily she he was able to reduce and injure him enough until, alerted by the alarm, the Duckburg citizens themselves finished the job by burning the monster when she had pierced his heart with a toothed arrow), so Quiverwing was waiting for the best chance to attack , almost always starting the movements first. Unlike her father, she didn't make dramatic introductions: That was his.

_"...I will be near to chase away fear, so sleep now and dream till' tomorrow..."_

Gosalyn smiled, wrapping herself in the cape (now her cape, she must remember), pulling out of one of her pockets a hardened cream pie she had for a late-night snack before continuing her patrol. In the distance, she could see one of Don Karnage's steamboats, the self-proclaimed "air pirate," anchored at one end of the harbor.

The girl couldn't suppress a grimace. While the excuse of "waiting for my father to come back for his approval" had worked for most of Gosalyn's annoying "admirers" (stalkers), Don Karnage was an entirely different case: The dog in the bizarre French-style blue uniform didn't miss opportunity to go to the Gearloose workshop and try to cling to the young Mallard girl with disturbing insistence from the moment he and his "band" of mercenaries had arrived from Cape Suzette to Duckburg for supplies for his beloved ship "The Steel Vulture" (Gosalyn, Gyro and Manny tried to contain their laughter at such a pompous name), supposedly staying for a few weeks... Few weeks that already turned three months and counting: The mercenary dog didn't stop trying to talk the young red-haired duckling, trying to convince her to "take a walk" in his airship, even insinuating that it would be the perfect place "to raise adorable puppies with duckbill", despite the terrifying age difference between the two (Karnage was almost in his 30s and kept looking for a thirteen-year-old girl… To the horror and disgust of Gyro and his assistants) ...Always receiving a forceful rejection from Gosalyn. And what had the mercenary dog had said after the first violent rejection from the redhead girl, with a blow to his muzzle with a wrench included?

"...She will deny it now, but she will become my little wife and co-captain of the Steel Vulture."

_Yep, yep, yep,_ Gosalyn Mallard's life couldn't be more chaotic now. And there was yet another possible year to come without Darkwing nearby her. The sparse telegrams, all in yellowish little bundles in the hope chest, were her source of comfort when she shut herself in the room, away from the distraction of her civilian work, her hunting job, and her dear friends.

It was all she had for now, because the wait was always bitter. Endurable, yes, but equally bitter.

**TBC **

**(1)** Aluminum is one of the most modern metals when compared to metallurgy born more than 5000 years ago. It was at the beginning of the 19th century when the Danish chemist Hans Cristian Oersted first isolated the metal in 1825, and in 1855 the first 97% pure ingot was obtained. Its production was so expensive that aluminum was considered a very valuable metal, along with gold and silver.

**(2)** The Krampus is a folklore creature from the Alpine countries, described as a furry and horned monster, serving as the antithesis of Santa Claus / Saint Nicholas at Christmas, punishing evil and mischievous children.

** (3)** For a long time and even in modern times it seemed completely normal for young women to marry at very young ages, their husbands being much older than them.

**(4)** Reference to _"The strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"_ by Robert Louis Stevenson, although in a coincidental sense, since the book was first published in 1886.


	7. That hell of purple smoke

**Part 7**

**That hell of purple smoke and spilled blood. **

_"I slip into the shadows, adjusting my infallible weapon, focusing my indomitable will, searching for my elusive prey to sink my dagger into the throat full of evil... Once again being the lone wolf that I have always been, always caring for only myself, always being above and apart from others... Always... Ugh, who am I kidding...!?"_

Once again, as in the beginning, he was alone again... And now he hated it.

When he had seen her leave on that ship, covered by his purple cape, looking terribly tiny in comparison... He hated to admit it, but it was as if a large piece of his soul was _ripped_ apart, _parting_ with her, _away_ from there. He had stiffened like a stake, watching the ship drift away into the early morning haze... All he had to do was wait for her to arrive safely in port, that was what should matter... So why did he have the feeling of having a hippo sat on his chest?

"...She'll be _fine_, Drake." An imposing armor murmured at his side, whose somewhat ragged voice didn't fit well compared to the power he held. Drake snorted.

"Thanks for the motivational talk, Fenton. Now come on, they're waiting for us."

"I-I understand... Hey, by the way, isn't that wound on your hand too deep to have been just blackberries?"

Drake ignored his question, heading off toward the mangroves to return to the town near the harbor, closely followed by the armored duck. They had to find a place to regain strength and that had a good Morse machine to communicate with the other hunters around and to have an idea of the situation in general.

...And at the same time, count enough days to be able to communicate with Scrooge and thus confirm that his girl arrived safely.

...It was a stressful two weeks for him. As they marched through the streets of Paris in search of the meeting point that the SHUSH guild had designated for himself and for Gizmoduck, the masked mallard waited for some message, some telegram, in the midst of anxiety to any post office to ask if there was _any_ message from Scrooge McDuck.

As they walked around, both ducks noticed how the streets were desolate, some of the buildings with obvious damage to their structures, most of the people around them tried to avoid contact with each other, walking in a hurry, looking everywhere: That it was the result of the damned monsters and vampires: destruction, _fear_.  
**...**

The guild meeting was held in a part of the Paris catacombs. Darkwing and Gizmoduck entered through the famous cemetery entrance, followed by other hunters, until they reached one of the famous altars. The masked mallard sat on the ground next to a half-dozen hunters, all awaiting the arrival of the great leader of the guild... which was a frail-looking old owl with thick glasses, who stood in the middle of the altar, tapping one of the skulls on the wall.

"Gentlemen, we have the situation of this monster that is representing a general threat... Taurus Bulba. And I would like Darkwing to give us the summary since he was the last to fight with him."

The duck shifted uncomfortably in place, feeling a lot of raptor eyes staring at him. He contained a sigh and got up, motivated by the supportive look and thumb sign given by Gizmoduck. The masked mallard told everything from the beginning, sandwiched between the intriguing beginning, the intense climax and the resolution... Putting between it the sparkle of green eyes and red hair, all together with an indomitable spirit. As he finished his tale, Drake noticed that both the guild boss and some hunters were looking at him curiously, as if he had suddenly had four extra arms out of nowhere.

"...So that demonic spawn was behind a little girl and _you_, the _ever altruistic_ Darkwing Duck, offered your _selfless_ help." One of the assistants, a stocky grizzly bear with a strong Russian accent, muttered looking at the duck with raised eyebrows. "Do you _want_ me to believe _that_?"

"That depends on your perception, Comrade Grizzlykoff," Darkwing replied, folding his arms. "There are _still_ miracles, but I know you only expect the miracle of being promoted in the guild." He hadn't finished saying that when the bear raised a paw toward the duck, then slowly lowered it, frowning at it.

"If it _weren't_ for the fact that we need as _many_ men as possible to eradicate this threat, I would make duck pate **(1)** right _now_."

"_Great_, after _this_ I invite you to a drink." Darkwing replied wryly. The old owl cleared his throat.

"According to the reports that we have from the outside, it is possible that Taurus Bulba is in this area, so using _Maese_ Darkwing as "bait" (Please, do not protest, Darkwing, _thanks_.), We will be able to neutralize it to avoid more collateral damage.

**...**

That same night, while waiting for the signal to leave the makeshift shelter in the catacombs, Darkwing and Gizmoduck were sitting in a corner. While the masked duck carved a stake with a pocket knife, the armored duck would pick up chunks of rock or bone from the ground to crush them with his gloves. After a while, they started talking.

"As soon as we're done with this, I'll be able to find a damn telegraph to send a message ... I know she went well with your old employer and I'm sure she'll be having a good time, but..."

"Hey, it's okay to miss her, but I have a _feeling_ this will be over _before_ the end of the summer." Fenton replied with an optimism that almost made Drake roll his eyes, but he decided to let it go, because he was thinking of asking him a favor... And when he mentioned about it, the brown duck looked at him in surprise. "What? Do you want me to _teach_ you...?"

"Just a little... I want to surprise her when I see her. And I don't know someone _better_ than you for that."

Gizmoduck smiled. "...I find it very sweet of you. Oh, I _can't_ believe I said that about _you_, hehe."

"Oh, shut up now," Darkwing snapped, blushing as Gizmoduck laughed heartily.

...Three seconds later, both were stunned at the screams that could be heard from one of the distant corridors:

_"Intruders, intruders, vampires have sneaked here...!"_

"But how the hell did they get in...?"

"We're going to gut overdeveloped bats!" Fenton screeched, pulling his traction motor and rolling down the corridor toward the noise. Darkwing ran after him, brandishing his pistol and serrated blade. It was going to be a dirty fight in an awkward, dark and narrow place... But there was no other choice. Then he stopped abruptly, clenching his teeth. At the end of one of the corridors of skulls and bones, there was a corpulent figure with horns in the dark, his eyes flashed red ... He was definitely not a mortal. And then rage gripped the mallard when he heard the shadow speak.

"But what a pleasure, we have the feathered clown in this mousetrap, I send you greetings from my master... What happened to the _little slut_ of Waddl...?"

"But what's going on _here_?!" Gizmoduck yelled as he heard Darkwing give an almost _hellish_ shriek and then watch him jump over the shadowy creature with the ferocity of a hyena.

The armored duck approached to try to help him, noting that the monster first responded to the flashes coming from the blades of the masked duck, trying to hurt him in some way, yelling at him to reveal his master's hiding place... until a sharp blow horrified him: The monster had revealed itself by the light of an adjacent torch, seeing that it was the ram they had fought with before, Hannigan. Just Gizmoduck had pulled out a machete when the ram struck Darkwing hard on his right temple, sending him flying into a wall. The ram laughed spasmodically.

_"You monster!"_ Fenton shrieked, brandishing the gun at the ram, knocking him back, hearing at that moment that several other hunters were running near them, shouting all sorts of insults. Would there be more than one vermin in the catacombs with them? Out of the corner of his eye, he noted with dismay that Drake was still motionless against the wall.

At the end a shriek from Hannigan echoes against the walls, Gizmoduck recoils as he feels the blood leap against his metallic helmet: He had managed to strike the ram on the shoulder with a huge machete, causing a large hole of bloody meat to open; He was about to land another blow to his head, but the vampire ram vanished in a wisp of smoke.

...Several hunters, including Grizzlykoff, trooped down the hall, noticing the bloodstains and the armored duck leaning against the wall, shaking the masked duck, still motionless, eyes closed; a trickle of blood poured from his fallen beak, dripping quietly onto the ground.

**…**

It was like total, fragrant, _familiar_ darkness.

Yes, it was _familiar_. He had already experienced it almost a year before. When everything around him glowed red and then white... He had felt pain; he was always exposed to it in his career... But nothing like that, landing on a roof after an explosion, his bones shattered and his mind almost off, with intervals between lucidity feeling excruciating pain... And total darkness where he felt nothing. Now he was in the same, not seeing or feeling anything... But he heard _something_… Or _someone_.

"Hello, Drake. What a pleasure to _meet_ you."

_"Who the hell is that?"_ the duck thought with sudden panic running down his spine. The male voice came right behind him. He didn't dare turn around to see who it was. Was it Taurus Bulba's bastard and another of his mental tortures? "He clenched his teeth, turning slowly... And he was stunned.

"How nice to finally meet you in person."

"Pro-Professor Waddlemeyer!" Drake stammered, instantly turning pale. The chubby old duck was smiling at him like he had just been heard a good joke and wanted to tell him. Darkwing backed away. "_Y_-_you're_ here, and I...! _I...!"_ He began to move restlessly and frantically. "_Then_ I am...?!"

"No Drake, you're _not_ dead. Although many philosophers say that _death_ is just _one_ more state of the subconscious, one more dream from which you eventually _wake up_. Don't you find it curious?"

Even for a hunter used to seeing and experiencing death, he didn't quite understand it. The old scientific duck approached him more, Drake noticed that his hands were stained with ink, as he had noticed in the old daguerreotype. Despite the smile on the face of the old duck, the younger duck couldn't help but be suspicious: It could be an evil illusion... He tried to stay calm. "..._Did_ you want to meet me, professor?" He replied narrowing his eyes. Professor Waddlemeyer nodded.

"Yes, to know you and thank you for taking care of my granddaughter. She's a special girl, don't you think?"

Darkwing felt a lump in his throat, thinking about his girl... And a few seconds later, he felt guilty. The professor was her grandfather, blood grandfather, in fact... And Drake was nothing of his, much less hers. He sighed reluctantly, forcing a smile, allowing himself to empty his thoughts. "...She is, she changed my life. She gave me ... A reason to fight and live."

Professor Waddlemeyer nodded again, widening his smile. "I _couldn't_ wait for _other_ words from Gosalyn's father." the old duck said in a gentle tone. When he saw that the masked duck was going to say something, he continued: "It doesn't matter what happens or what others say. She'll _always_ be my granddaughter and she'll _always_ be your daughter, Drake. I really appreciate how much you love and care for her... And what you are doing now for her and for me. I see well what you have done before."

...Taking her away from the nuns from a convent with lies, slaughtering someone with a broken bottle, making loyalty pacts with the ecstasy of spilled blood... He looked down and saw the deep scar on his left palm. What irony, the _left side_ doing evil once more, **(2)** but he'd do it _again_ without hesitation. Feeling a little calmer, but equally alert, Darkwing muttered:

"You came looking for me, right?"

The old duck stared at him for a moment. Drake didn't say anything either, appreciating how different the old man looked from Gosalyn, especially for his white feathers that stood out more in that darkness... But his eyes were identical as hers, an exact copy.

"...No, Drake. I just wanted to see you before I let you go."

"L-Let me go?"

"You heard that, my boy. There are still things to do, many, _many_ things to do."

Darkwing stared at him, then spoke softly. "Yes, many things, Professor. And I will do it."

_"...What you have to do, comrade Darkwing, is wake up at fucking once!"_

And he felt a powerful slap on the cheek, making him open his eyes, stunned. In front of him were the bear Grizzlykoff and Gizmoduck, staring at him. Fenton approached him, pale as wax.

"Don't move, you were almost ten minutes without answering. You must be shocked... who were you talking to? What Professor...?"

"Nah, it's nothing, as if a brief faint _could_ stop Darkwing Duck..." Drake replied with a smile, olympically ignoring his questions. And less when there is still much to do.

Gizmoduck was dismayed. Grizzlykoff muttered: "There are things that simply _cannot_ be fixed, no matter how many _blows_ you give them."

**...**

The sudden appearance and attack of the vampirized ram was baffling to everyone... But even worse was what was unfolding on the surface. Refugees in the famous and ancient "Court of Miracles", Darkwing, Gizmoduck and the other hunters heard from others the havoc that had formed in various streets: people bitten, assaults, monsters walking the streets to seize the first unsuspecting... And according to the latest rumors, a kind of giant bovine with crimson eyes had been seen prowling in the south of the city. At that, Darkwing jumped, exclaiming that the prey was his, that he would kill him. Grizzlykoff replied:

"While I would _love_ to see you crushed again, comrade, my consciousness _sometimes_ comes through: Didn't you hear they just said: A _'giant bovine'_? What _could_ you _do_, if even I could crush you with a claw? Better leave it to the _heavyweights_, duck."

Darkwing snorted, "_Heavyweights_ you say? Heavyweights is anyone who _doesn't_ walk through the door like the comrade here." The bear glared at him. "but I have handled that bull before and I will do it _again_."

"Handle him _how_? With another chemical explosion that you might not come back from _again_? You don't have nine lives, Darkwing."

But the masked duck ignored him and left. Fenton, standing next to him, hurried to follow him, saying that it would be his support... Whether Drake wanted to or not.

**...**

Unfortunately, Taurus Bulba had vanished, leaving a trail of death and destruction behind him: Burned houses and crops, people bitten or already cut to pieces, and above all very scared... Leaving the hunter duck _like_ a bride left in the altar: dressed (armed) and _pissed_. However, his spirit (or rather stubbornness, in the words of other hunters) refused to decline, determined to continue... To _fulfill_ his _revenge_.

In this way a painful game of cat and mouse would begin that lasted a long time, much longer than Darkwing would have wished: At the slightest rumor of some bovine, cow or ram vampirized causing havoc, Darkwing would leave everything and run to meet them, with burning desires for blood as intense as if he was a vampire himself, using all his abilities to try to locate the place where his prey was hiding... _Only_ to end up reaching a burned or destroyed place, but without a trace of the bull.

At first he had insisted on going alone, but Gizmoduck insisted to accompany him, after countless grunts from the white mallard. He had to admit, however, that the help of the armored duck was valuable, if only as a _"Tank_" while he furiously would throw himself at some monster they managed to catch. Fenton, at the same time, turned out to be a good source of relief for Drake, especially when he didn't want to drowning his frustration at not finding Bulba and the regret of being away for so much time from his little girl with some red wine and whisky in some bar in the area. Sitting on some roof, in some church tower, with a bag of brioches and some liquor, the two duck warriors talked and Fenton taught Drake a little what he had asked... Spending time waiting for the next attack.

Darkwing was certain that the clever Taurus Bulba's modus operandi of popping up somewhere, wreaking havoc, and then disappear was a plan designed to infuriate Drake and make him continue to chase him in a _"catch me if you can"_ game until the end of time... But Darkwing would continue to do so. He would continue to "_entertain_" the infernal bull in his childish game so that the monster would pay attention _only_ to him, not _only_ to _feed_ his old ego, but so that he _wouldn't_ occur to him to start looking for where Gosalyn was hidden.

Darkwing certainly _wouldn't_ have to fear for his daughter's safety. He knew Scrooge McDuck well enough to know that the crazy old man had many more tricks than using his cane as pogo to jump. _"Have you ever been in his Money Bin? That man's security is insane!"_ Fenton once said when talking about it. Furthermore, it could be said that Drake prided himself on the education he had given to her, added to the girl's natural talent with archery, she could defend herself against monsters... But who did he _want_ to _fool_? He would always be concerned for her safety, for her well-being, always cursing the hour that the fucking bull had appeared to ruin the life of Gosalyn and her grandfather; He was going to _end_ all _this_, to give _peace_ to that old man and himself with his girl.

But how long would that take? Weeks? Months? _...Years?_ The sadistic, cold part of Drake's mind would constantly have told him that this could take many months that could turn into years... _Years__away_ from his baby girl. _How_ would she _look_ like when it was finally over? _How_ would he _look_ like? Would he witness her _blossoming_ transformation as a young woman, or would he _loss_ them since he already _lost_ her first ten years as he grew more _tired_ and _older_? He would have to try to talk to Scrooge about it, even if it were by brief telegrams.

**...**

Time passed and the first winter came without Gosalyn.

The land around it was becoming withered and rotting, getting colder and colder. People were hiding in their homes not only by the cold, but also by the incursions of monsters that, now with the increasingly frequent absence of the sun, now came to attack even during the mornings, giving hunters few moments of rest. Wounded, dead and missing number of slayers increased in the guilds.

Feeling his webbed feet against the wet ground and littered with rotting yellowing leaves, Darkwing was still wandering around looking for clues, signs, anything of the bastard bull. He _could_ feel like the goddess Demeter as he walked through the woods and fields, armed with a torch to light his way and accompanied by Gizmoduck, feeling the clock move relentlessly. But still, he kept going.

A few weeks ago he had decided to return to the place where it had all started... Yes, Gosalyn and Professor Waddlemeyer's house. It hadn't been easy, as Drake still believed that he would still be recognized as the _"pervert"_ who had kidnapped (and eventually _corrupted_) that little redhead girl, sneaking into the darkness of the night, trying to find something from her, something he could carry with him... But to his deep disappointment and rage, he had discovered that the house had been ransacked by damn thieves, taking almost everything away: Books, objects, even furniture... Nothing was left of Gosalyn's house, when Darkwing had already imagined her inhabiting that house again... This time with him as her declared "guardian", filling the walls with laughs and mischiefs. Standing amidst the bare walls and ruined floor, Darkwing could only stare at a small daguerreotype of her that he found after searching deeply, portraying her a little younger, perhaps when she was six or seven years old, with her loose wavy red hair framing her intense green eyes... Feeling the tears burning his eyes behind the mask.

He knew perfectly well that an old photo framed in his old silver-plated compass would never _match_ the true _beauty_ of Gosalyn, but it was _all_ he had. And he clung to it like a talisman.

**...**

**_"I'm still alive. Thinking of you. And I'll come back for you. Have a good time at these holidays."_**

It wasn't anywhere near what he wanted to express to her, but there wasn't other choice: The downside of the telegrams despite their quickness was their frustrating brevity. Darkwing used to brag about his _"purple prose"_ when writing something for a high-ranking client, from kings to the Holy See. In pompous calligraphy, he used to describe his wanderings... He had even wondered whether to hire a troubadour to write an "ode" of his person, but then he gave up: _Who_ better to do an _epic ode_ about Darkwing Duck _than_ himself?

But regarding Gosalyn he had to be as cautious as possible. The brevity and simplicity of the message was so as not to raise suspicions, even so, it sounded bitter to the white mallard: How a _few_ miserable lines could describe how much he missed her, how much he loved her and _wanted_ to see her? _Never_, in any damn universe. He wanted that to be her Christmas present... His _first_ Christmas present for her.

**...**

_…1871_

**_"I'm still looking for him. It seems like every time I'm on his heels, he disappears. _****_I'll keep going. For you. For your Grandpa."_**

His ice blue eyes gleamed in the dark as he focused on his prey, after much chasing. His teeth clenched tight as he saw the lanky figure of the vampire in front of him, panting and his mouth full of blood. He gripped the dagger better, watching the red liquid drip, still glistening in the gloom. He had cornered him into an alley and shot him down with an arrow. Before he knew it, he was straddling his back, starting to clip his wings to keep him from escaping. Sharp steel cut with difficulty, but with satisfaction the membrane of the leathery wings, making the monster squeal in pain. Blood was spilling and staining his feathered white hands, as well as his face.

...Darkwing had to admit, vampires (and psychopaths) were right: Blood can make a powerful feeling of ecstasy... Although he had already experienced that with the act of promise with Gosalyn. But after shooting down and beginning to torture Hoof, the weakest of Taurus Bulba's servants for information from his master (and which the vampire vehemently denied to him), the hunter didn't hesitate to rip the vampire's wings as if he was a boy ripping off the wings of a butterfly, as well as practicing a total dismemberment of the monster's body once it had been decapitated.

...The people of that area went so far as to say that the gutting of that vampire by Darkwing Duck was so bestial and done with so much hatred that, years later, only a shadow that appeared from the filthiest alleys of Whitechapel could surpassed it. (3)

**_"I think of you. When we finally meet, my dear. Please never let your spirit falter. It's the only thing that keeps me going through this ridiculously long hell."_**

He soon found the other, the smallest but fastest of them. Hidden at the entrance of a sewer on the outskirts of the city. Mouth struggled and resisted a bit, but as the masked mallard noted with glee, he was just as silly as Hoof. Darkwing looked _more_ like a hawk than a duck, destroying his prey quickly and repetitively... _With_ machete blows. Blood from the already decapitated body stained his face above the mask. With each blow of the vampire's almost decapitated and pierced body, a good chunk of red and bloody flesh gleamed in the moonlight.

Unlike last time, this time there was a slight change: Not only because Gizmoduck was there... but also because little Mouth had decided to sing the _song_ that he expected:

"... Ha... Hannigan... He' ... In the south, hidden in the mountains, recovering from the wound made by that beaked can of sardines..."

"_Beaked can of sardines...?!"_ Fenton exploded with outrage.

"...Y-you promised you would let me go if I told you, Darkwing..."

Darkwing's eyes flashed. "...Of course. I'll let you go _down there_. Give my salutes to Satan from my part."

And before the monster could do anything, the hunter duck had plunged the blade of the machete into the vampire's chest, almost piercing them through the other side... And then beginning to satiate his desire for revenge in spilled blood from that monster.

Gizmoduck was shocked, but deep down he understood it: Darkwing was cold and methodical, despite _all_ his pomposity and theatricality... But here it was _pure_ hatred. He stood there looking at his colleague and friend brutally butchering the vampire's corpse so that, at the moment of dawn, nothing was left from Mouth. In the end they withdrew from there.

"Do you think vampires will have a concept of paradise?" Fenton suddenly asked him. Drake, already returning to the real world after so much adrenaline in his being, looked at him raising an eyebrow. "I don't know, I know they don't have souls, but it's not known that they still have concepts taken from their past life, when they were mortal like us."

"Worthy of a scientist, Fen," Drake replied with a grin, giving him a gloomy air because a little bit of vampire blood still on his face. "Who knows, chances are that _'paradise'_ is some meadow from hell like the ones Dante spoke about **(4)** where there are only skinny sheep for eternity."

"Well, that doesn't sound bad... Except for the poor sheep."

"Heh, _definitely_."

**...**

Darkwing would think about it a few days later as he rested in a church attic after a long day of unsuccessful searching for Bulba and Hannigan, gazing at the star-studded night sky. He really doubted that vampires had any kind of paradise, or if they were even worthy of any of the paradises that religions offered their worshipers. He imagined that was why vampires had eternity on Earth, because they couldn't have it again once they really die for good.

..._What_ would be in paradise? Would there be _something_ for him?

Well, he knew the basics, what everyone knew when reading the Great Book: A beautiful garden, a city of gold... _Yep, yep, yep._ That sounded wonderful, something many would kill for... But it wasn't _enough_ for him. Greedy as he was, Drake felt a _piece_ was missing from that magnificent painting ... _"Heaven is the face of a woman."_ The great rabbit hunter, Abraham Van Helsing, had once told him years ago. And yes, he was right.

"Heaven has a woman's face, indeed, old rabbit." He murmured to himself. "_More_ specifically, heaven _is_ the face of a little girl.

**TBC**

**Author's Note:**

**(1)** Paté is a spreadable paste usually made from minced meat or liver and fat (mainly duck), with the addition of vegetables, herbs, spices and wine.

**(2)** For a long time it was believed that "the left hand, the the left side" was the side of evil, so even the stigmatization of left-handed people was common.

**(3)** Refers to the murders of the infamous Jack the Ripper in the London borough of Whitechapel in 1888, (i.e. 17 years after the time of this chapter), whose modus operandi was characterized by cuts to the throat, mutilation of genitalia and abdomen, organ removal and disfigurement of the faces of his victims, all prostitutes.

**(4)** In Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, The Ante-Hell was a green field where mainly pre-Christian authors and philosophers such as Socrates or Plato were.


	8. That heaven with a face of a little girl

**Final part: **

**That heaven with a face of a little girl **

He had spent many days preparing for the meeting, to end all this. He had all the gas cans available in his pockets: Stun Gas, Powdered Devil's Breath (1), poisonous gas, stinky gas, and even laughing gas (2), not to mention stinging dust. With the information Mouth had given him (before tearing the monster apart), he would only have to take him to that area of the mountains to finish off Hannigan... And boy, did he have plans for him. He was accompanied by Gizmoduck as support, also prepared.

Upon reaching the bottom of those mountains, to his regret, the masked mallard let the armored duck use his radar system to try to detect any movement (Without a doubt, one of Gyro's best inventions), stiffening for an instant and then look at Drake.

"Do you smell that?"

Drake stood still like a dog that sniffs for a rabbit... It was blood. And it was intense, concentrated; the kind of smell in the air when a bloodsucking monster is feeding. He looked at Fenton and nodded.

* * *

"I am the terror that flaps in the night! I'm the mosquito that won't let you sleep! I am...!"

"Are you going to finish already? You'll end up killing me with boredom," the ram growled, looking down, preparing to jump on the two ducks. Gizmoduck responded with an upward shot, far out of reach of Hannigan, who watched it drift upward. "Heh, it looks like the Swiss Army Knife on Wheels missed the shot ..."

"I wasn't aiming at you," Gizmoduck sentenced with a smile, pointing up. The ram did, just in time to see it explode in firecrackers that lit up the entire site... Including a huge dark figure... Of which a shorter but faster duck leaped at him, with a blade drawn. But the huge creature blocked it with his arm... With his arm entirely of iron.

"...It _seems_ the devil _gave_ both of us a second chance. I had to give _some_ of my skin... What did you give in return, Darkwing? That little brat in a ritual?" The deep voice laughed. The masked duck, still trying to get his blade out of the monster's arm, snorted.

"Yes, I also gave something: The _promise_ to send you _there_ again," he growled and seeing that his weapon wasn't loosening, he began to try to punch Taurus Bulba in the face... Noting his face also fused with metal. The bull laughed again.

"...Well, keep trying, feathered loser." And a mallet-sized fist was thrown straight into the hunter's face, who avoided him at the last minute. A few meters away, the armored duck was still fighting the ram. After a while, the ram received a saber blow to the face, leaving him with a diagonal cut. Hannigan screeched in pain as he reared, blinded.

"We'd better pause with this!" Darkwing exclaimed, pointing his gas pistol and firing a capsule that exploded on contact with the ram, enveloping it in a faint white smoke.

"Oh, is this another one of your circus tricks, Dorkwing ?!" Hannigan scoffed for a moment as the smoke dissipated ... But then her expression changed to one of horror. "What...?! What is this?!" He howled starting to scratch like crazy. Gizmoduck stopped with a confused face... Until Darkwing barked a dry laugh.

"And I thought that putting the name "Itching powder" sounded too obvious." He muttered, shaking his head at the sight of the ram writhing on the ground. At that moment Taurus Bulba moved up, just as the last sparks of the firecrackers had vanished, showing that black clouds were beginning to form. They couldn't lose it. Immediately the masked mallard jumped onto Gizmoduck's back. "Follow him!"

Fenton snorted at him. "_Do_ you see me as a war steed or what?!"

"Just do it, Fenton! And about someone..." Whispering in his ear, the armored duck aimed and threw a giant ball at Hannigan... Which turned out not to be a fireball, but a slimy ball, making him stick to the ground, no matter how hard twist to scratch himself or try to escape. "...I won't have the pleasure of seeing you die sunburned, but hey, we'll collect the ashes later, we'll make vampire fertilizer."

"Damn you, Darkwing Duck! You and your fucking pet girl _will_ meet me in Hell!" Hannigan yelled between rage and hellish itch. Both Darkwing and Gizmoduck looked at him a moment before the armored duck stomped on his gears to get out of there, following the trail of the greater monster.

...Where things would get much worse, now that the darkness of the storm would take away their advantage.

* * *

They came to the moment when the storm began to unleash on the city (_"In those moments I appreciate that the metal of the armor is rustproof"_ Fenton murmured as he accelerated through the streets), noticing the chaos that was forming in the streets: Fenton and Drake recognized Grizzlykoff and the others violently responding to the huge figure on top of the roofs, laughing. "There he is! Time to end this, Darkwing!" An eloquent silence made the armored duck turn its head, where the masked mallard was supposed to be clanged to his back... Not seeing anyone. _"Darkwing?!"_

Darkwing was panting, climbing the fire escape stairs adjacent to that building; the icy drops pierced his plumage, piercing to the bone. His vision was blurred not only by the drizzle, but also by anger... He had to finish it, he had to finish it now. Seeing that the end of the stairs had been smashed, he used a rope to reach the ceiling... But just as he had put a hand on the edge, a huge hoof had landed hard on his fingers, making him scream in pain.

"You finally came! Isn't that a wonderful sight?!" At that, Darkwing, while dangling from one arm, pulled a smoke bomb from his lapel and threw it, but Taurus Bulba avoided him with a gesture, then grabbed him by the forearm and pulled him up with the absurd ease of a rag doll, making Darkwing squirm in his grip. "Right now it would be so easy to rip your arm off... But it wouldn't be fun, would it?" Then…" And he kicked one of his dangling leg. Despite the thunder noises, it sounds clearly like a pistol shot... and Darkwing's horrendous howl that followed. "As mortals say, _one arm for one leg_... Or better two!" And Bulba kicked him in the other leg, breaking the bones. Then he dropped him to the ground, where he curled himself like a turtle.

The bull then snorted when he saw that Gizmoduck and the others were reaching where they were, so he immediately unfolded a kind of metal wings, grabbing the badly battered duck that was trying to crawl away from him and quickly rising to the stormy sky. "What the hell is he doing?!" Gizmoduck yelled trying to aim at them, but he knew he couldn't shoot. Taurus Bulba was laughing, holding the duck by one of his broken legs, hanging him upside down, almost twenty meters away.

"Isn't it ironic that you die the same way I was going to kill that stupid girl, ending like an ugly stain on the street? _Poetic justice_, I'd say." The bull was saying with malevolent pleasure, waving the seemingly inert hunter duck like a miserable rag doll about to be _thrown_ away. "...I'd _even_ ask you if you were willing to die for her, but..."

"._..Gladly!"_

And immediately Bulba made a terrible scream, throwing his head back. From the ground, with his improved vision, Fenton could see what happened: In an incredible athletic feat in his current condition, Darkwing had propelled himself upward and buried the butt of his weapon against the bull's left eye deeply. The bull released his hands to try to touch his face, so Darkwing crawled up behind the vampire's head, grabbing the bull's horns like he was a true rodeo cowboy. The monster kicked literally in the air, trying to get the duck off from him, while the hunter seemed to maneuver him towards a place to the left. Lightning bolts began to fall, illuminating the entire stage, so everyone could see the figure of Darkwing raising his hand where an object shone, nailing it right in the back of the beast.

"Drake!" Fenton shouted as he saw before his eyes, Taurus Bulba falling like a red and yellow fireball, with Darkwing still clinging to him... And then they saw him scream and writhe on a Franklin lightning rod (3), going through him completely, like one of the impaled victims from Count Dragul's infamous garden... Then a bolt of lightning struck just above the lightning rod, illuminating the monster and everything around it in blinding light.

Gizmoduck's eyes widened, unable to believe it.

Taurus Bulba had ended like a huge and grotesque charred brochette, completely motionless and the expression of horror forever _immortalized_ in Hell. As the other hunters removed his body from the lightning rod to cut off his head and burn him, a metal-clad duck searched the surroundings for any indication of the purple-clad mallard... It was a white flash in a nearby alley full of garbage that made him hurry to start removing the pile of rubbish and debris. "Drake, Drake... Can you hear me? Say something, _even_ an insult, if you hear me...!"

"...Ugh"

Fenton smiled with relief. "...Well, it's something."

* * *

Gosalyn practically ran like crazy from Gearloose's workshop, leaving behind the triplets, who had come to tell her. Although Dewey ran after her with the same energy to try to reach her, Huey and Louie looked at each other before following them, with Louie snorting: "It would have been easier than there would be a telegraph here!" By the time the two brothers reached Killmotor Hill, they found their friend on the verge of tears... But she was smiling as if a twenty-dollar bill had been found under her shoe. Dewey and Webby were by her side, hugging her. Scrooge, standing in front of her, smiled at his newly arrived nephew-grandchildren and then addressed the little redhead.

"Although we received the news from an acquaintance of mine and not from them, I know that the news is wonderful for ye, lass."

"You have no idea, Uncle Scrooge." The girl murmured, turning away from her friends, staring at the old man. "I just need to be told about my father to round off my happiness!" ...At that moment, Scrooge's smile wavered, making a face. Gosalyn immediately panicked, compulsively clutching her hand where the scar was. "No... no... don't tell me he's...?!"

"Take it easy, my dear lass. If I know anything about Darkwing Duck, it's that he's like my nephew Donald: Stubborner than the stubbornies. Or as he once said to me_: 'Singed but triumphant'_... But he's very, very singed... And it is possible that..."

"No, he _cannot_ die! He promised me, he promised to come back for me!" Gosalyn said in a voice stiff with tears, still grasping her right hand. The triplets and Webby immediately surrounded her to giving support. "No more news, Uncle Scrooge?!"

"Nay, lass, so far it's the only one. But Duckworth is hanging on the telegraph for more news." The old duck replied, approaching her and placing a hand on her shoulder. Gosalyn closed her eyes tight.

What was the use of rejoicing in the death of Taurus Bulba and the fact the he ended like a piece of crispy pork if there was no news of her father or that he would return immediately? How much longer would she have to wait?

**...**

Months passed and the earth cooled again... And with that, the joy Gosalyn had felt after knowing the news of the death of her grandfather's killer. She refocused on her work in the shop, working as an occasional hunter and part-time vigilante, albeit enjoying a certain reputation as the fast-paced and mysterious archer who fought crime from the shadows. (_"Now many reporters will want to know who is Quiverwing Quack ... And she's eating my grandmother's cupcakes with us right now, isn't that awesome?!"_ Webby had said enthusiastically) and on small adventures with her friends. They and Mr. McDuck with Mrs. B., as well as Gyro, Manny, and Lil'Bulb, bless them, had really helped her not _sink_ into the sad swamp of uncertainty as it kept ticking the clock.

It was quite dark in the Gearloose workshop, but all the external lights were off. The girl was still awake, not only because she felt uneasy about the lack of news after several months had passed, but also because that day Don Karnage had been pissing her off with almost indecent flirting attempts that ended with Lil'Bulb almost entering into in_ 'Annihilator Mode'_ if he didn't leave... The mercenary ended up saying to the furious young female duck that he would serenade her that same night, to the irritation of the workshop and that same street around, _surely_.

Spending that night in the workshop to work on an urgent project for Mr. Scrooge, Gosalyn was alone in a nightgown and in a dressing gown, handling the nuts of an airship engine, when a sharp knock on the door was heard. Assuming it was that annoying dog, the young woman ignored it. Three other knocks were heard, just as insistent. God, if whoever the fuck is was desperately needing a replacement or anything, surely he would wait until tomorrow! She kept adjusting the nuts... And they kept kicking the door. Hell, if they kept going like this, they would knock down the door. And at Gearloose's loud screams from the basement: "Whosoever the hell is, don't you know it's closed?!" Gosalyn huffed in annoyance and tossed the tools aside, stomping to the door, armed with a huge wrench before opening the door. "Well, you've heard Dr. Gearloose, it's closed. It's not my problem that you cannot hear or you're an..."

A gust of icy wind slapped her across the face, making her close her eyes, but she was still able to hear him, although she couldn't see him: "...I'd scold you now, but I think it's _better_ to give me a hug, young lady."

…Gosalyn froze, blinking incredulously at the figure in front of her, obscured by the lack of lights around. For an absurdly long second, she thought it was some trick of her mind... No, it wasn't possible, was it? Feeling the hand still holding the wrench was trembling, the girl reached out to light the oil lamp by the door, illuminating what was in front of her… Her eyes widened… The being in front of her chuckled.

"...I _knew_ you'd be beautiful when you grew up, Gosalyn, but I didn't know you'd be so pretty." He smiled and spread his arms. "C'mere and say hello to your old man appropri…._ Oof!_" He hadn't finished saying that when the girl threw himself at him, almost knocking him down. "Hey, _watch_ the ribs, kid...!"

"It's you, it's really you!" Gosalyn screamed, hugging him tightly, feeling like she was going to burst into tears… He smiled with a grimace due the old wounds, despite the feeling of relief and happiness that was also overwhelming him. He barked a dry laugh.

"Yes, it _really_ is me, the one on and the only Darkwing Duck and... Gos, _you're_ barefoot and it's snowing, but how can you even think of...!" In a microsecond, all the egotism went to overprotection. Gosalyn couldn't help rolling her eyes as she smiled, but a sudden chill on her feet brought her back to reality: She was barefoot, and she hadn't realized it due all the adrenaline rush! Her father quickly wrapped her in his cloak and lifted her up so that her feet dangled; Laughing like a little girl, Gosalyn put her arms around his neck and examined him closely. "…Yes, I _know_: I'm a_ little bit_ older, but I _can_ still fight a monster without complaining about my back, you know!" Darkwing mumbled making a grimace, also contemplating the changes in his daughter, delighted to see how her red hair, before _almost_ stuck to the skull... Now, after being released from a pin that was kept it picked up, was like a marvelous flaming mane that extended beyond her shoulder blades: There he realized how much time had passed... He swallowed and clutched the girl against him, hitting his forehead with hers, closing his eyes. Nothing would ruin this beautiful moment with his girl.

...Or well, _almost nothing_.

"You have 3 microseconds to release my assistant or you will be galvanized, corrupter!" Gyro suddenly shouted, also getting out from the house (with Manny and Lil'Bulb) using a megaphone. Darkwing began to scream furiously:

"Heck, do you have a macaw memory, Gearloose?!_ It's me!_" As he got closer, the scientist (still wearing a scientific gown over his nightgown) looked at the mallard for a moment, then frowned, snorting.

"Well, excuse me, I'm not the one who appears out of nowhere in the middle of the night..." He sighed, rubbing his face when he saw the happy girl in the hunter's arms. "Miss, I will assume that you are going to stop working for me to spend time with your father and all the mushy stuff, yadaya... So I'll have to take out the 'Mechanic Apprentice Wanted' sign in the morning and..."

"Why look for an apprentice if I'm already here ?!" Fenton squealed, still in Gizmoduck's armor, on the verge of tears of emotion, appearing in surprise and imprisoning Dr. Gearloose in a crushing (metallic) bear hug. "I also wanted to surprise you! Missed me?! I really missed you!"

"Ugh, I'm about to say that I _didn't_ if you _DON'T_ let go of me right now!" Gyro protested writhing, but Fenton was too happy to listen. He let out a sigh. "..._Fine_, only for _today_ hugs are allowed, _understood_, apprentice?!" The armored duck just nodded strongly.

Darkwing and Gosalyn only managed to laugh at them as the girl wrapped his neck around her arms, too happy to say anything... Except hearing a screeching voice in the distance while playing some kind of instrument: "...Oh no, _him_ again."

"What, _who_ are you talking about?" Darkwing asked, turning to both sides, still holding the girl, who was livid and with a face that was wishing that the earth swallow her:

"Miss Mallard, caramel maiden, I have come to take an exciting flight with you!" Don Karnage exclaimed making an appearance from a corner, playing a guitar in a way that would make anyone's ears bleed... Then the dog noticed, (to his pleasure) that the girl was in a light woolen nightgown, but also noticed her (to his displeasure), in the arms of a middle-aged white duck with an outlandish clothing. He dropped his guitar and grabbed the sword at the belt of his blue uniform. "_What _are you doing _dressed_ like that and in the arms of _another man_?!"

With the utter absurdity of the situation, Gosalyn was unable to bring out her fierce spirit in time to reply regularly; but someone did: Giving him a death glare, Darkwing growled: "Excuse me, _who_ the hell are _you_?!"

Karnage blinked and then smiled at the hostile duck: "I am the most feared mercenary of the seven seas, the terror that crosses the air, I am...!"

"_Get_ to the point, smug punk." Darkwing cut him off irritated. Gosalyn couldn't help rolling her eyes at the irony. Karnage snorted.

"Well, I am Don Karnage. And I have come to take Miss Gosalyn Mallard as my fiancée. My comrades have prepared a party for her... I came prepared in case of any resistance from the losers of this workshop, but if I have to fight with an _old_ _suitor_..." He smiled boastfully "... then I will."

"Well, I remember you were begging us for help with your battered ship," Gyro replied with calm fury... But Darkwing was _almost_ fuming his ears and his eyes were sparking... Then he stopped.

"Manny, could you hold Gosalyn for a moment? I don't want her to step on the snow." The mallard to asked the stone horse, who hurried to take the girl. Then Darkwing turned to see Karnage, who was about to draw his sword. "I'm _going_ to teach this _prospective_ son-in-law_ the ancient Carpathian bone dislocation."_

"Ancient carpa... _what_?!" Karnage mumbled with a frown, then had a look of horror. "Did you say... _son-in-law_?!"

Darkwing only smirked. A few seconds later, sounds of bone breaking were clearly heard accompanied by intense howls of pain.

**…**

"Gee, Dad, why didn't you ever show me that technique? That was _really_ a major league of coolness!"

"Ah well, the opportunity never occurred, hehe, my bad."

The father and daughter were huddled in the narrow mattress of the little room where Gosalyn used to sleep when she stayed late in the workshop. Gyro and Manny certainly looked shocked when they saw the girl insist that the mallard should sleep in her room and not on the dilapidated couch. _"We knew that Mr. Darkwing used to ignored the manners, but not so much!"_ Manny had said disapprovingly, but Darkwing had shrugged and went in anyway: _"Fatherly desires is beyond any protocol."_ The hunter concluded with a sneer. Stripped of his hat, cape, and mask, Drake kept staring at his daughter, marveling at how beautifully she had blossomed and cursing himself for _missing_ all that. Granted, now _nothing_ would separate him from her, but it was still something painful and unfair... None of that was going to be ever recovered.

Gosalyn smiled weakly as she kissed her father's cheek. "Now what we have enough is time, Dad."

"Hey, I'm supposed to be the father here and I should be the one to say that," Drake protested with a grimace, but lovingly pinching her cheek, making her giggle. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting so long, sweetheart."

"Well, thanks for the apologies, it was about time," she replied with slight annoyance, but then her expression changed, "...Uncle Scrooge said that you were struck by lightning when you killed Taurus Bulba... Where...?" Drake sat up and pulled up the turquoise sweater, showing how the Lichtenberg figures (4) crossed his back in such a way that the feathers there were severely damaged or rather missing. Gosalyn bit her beak in a grimace: They had already worked on electricity before and she knew perfectly well that feathers wouldn't grow back after an injury like this. Drake noted her anguish and smiled slightly to reassure her.

"It's alright, I was just plucked and primed for second time." And he laughed at his own joke. Seeing that the girl didn't understand, he smiled lovingly. "... I was plucked and primed in the first time to be a dad." He just said that when a pillow crashed into his face.

"Enough of mushy stuff. Tell me about your adventures! Tell me how you defeated Bulba, and I want _graphic_ details!"

"At this time? I don't think it's a good bedtime story, little miss." Darkwing muttered, yawning and lying back down and closing his eyes. "...Also, I'm sleepy, better in the morning."

"Come on, that will help me sleep better." Gosalyn insisted, almost jumping out of bed, too excited to sleep now. Darkwing just growled, pulling a pillow over his head.

...Perhaps he would miss sleeping peacefully, especially since he had traveled several hours without rest until he and Fenton reached Duckburg... but would he sacrifice that to please his rediscovered beloved daughter? Pfff, does anyone doubt it?

**o.o.o**

In that way, the city of Duckburg, or rather the criminals and monsters that came to cause disaster in Duckburg, came to face and lose with the pair of Darkwing Duck and Quiverwing Quack, emptying bullets and shooting arrows with brutal efficiency. Sometimes accompanied by Gizmoduck and his constant updates from Gyro Gearloose, and even by Scrooge himself for the same prevailing desire for a new adventure. Perched like gargoyles on the roofs of the buildings, they both contemplate the full moon waiting for some monster or criminal who dared to come out of their hole that night.

Darkwing smiled proudly, seeing how the green fabric framed her emerald eyes. She really looked like a real hunter and crime fighter. Even though she had a long way to go (and it wasn't just to Gos he was referring to) he was eager to continue the rest of that journey with her.

Drake had decided that the best thing would be to leave the life of a wanderer and not to separate Gosalyn from her friends, they would stay in Duckburg as their main home, making trips either for work or for pleasure... The first trip they would take would be to return to the hometown from Gosalyn and visit the grave of grandfather Waddlemeyer... And viciously punish the wretches who had robbed her old house. With the help of Gos's savings and a loan from Scrooge that Darkwing reluctantly accepted, (_"He's going to charge me the interest until after I died."_ He huffed) they bought a small house on the outskirts, where they could go hunting in the mountains and then go to the town.

The villagers had certainly been surprised to see the young girl with dark feathers go to live with that white-feathered man who had appeared out of nowhere one night, beat up Don Karnage and who claimed to be her father, even though they _didn't_ look alike_ at all._ Some malicious tongues murmured that perhaps for that mallard, she was an illegitimate daughter from some past sin, a maid or even a very young concubine who passed herself off as a daughter to give a decent air before society, already full of contempt and perversion towards _'inferior beings'_ like her due to her color or origin... As Darkwing had come to say not only to Judge Frollo but also those who trained with him: _"Blood only serves to make black puddings."_, she would always be his daughter and he would always be her father, _no_ matter what the people or the morals of the prevailing time said.

...How ironic at first that he had thought of simply using Gosalyn Waddlemeyer to regain some of his stagnant fame. And he ended up loving her more than himself, committing sin after sin for her. It was like an ironic trick of life which Drake was almost grateful for on his knees. Just as he was grateful for the opportunity to make up for lost time and, as he had promised her that night in the mangroves and in the various telegrams, to be happy once and for all, enjoying the now and what was to come. And Gosalyn couldn't agree more.

Whether they were hunting a monster or taking down a bear or caribou to sell their skin, whether it was arguing and fixing things with a hug, whether they were walking as civilians through the streets of Duckburg and holding hands to scandalize the self-righteous ones... Gosalyn couldn't conceive of life without Drake: With him she had entered a dangerous life, forged with blood and fire, where everything could end in a matter of moments... But she wouldn't change for _anything_. Because thanks to that life and his deep and reciprocal love (a cruel love that was born on a whim and _ended_ up blooming full of spilled blood) Gosalyn felt safe, powerful and above all, _free_.

There were many stories about the infamous hunter Darkwing Duck. Some good, some bad, and some unfounded. But the story about the love between him and his daughter penetrated deep into those who came to influence, from the McDuck heirs to Oswald Van Helsing.

...But his story does not end in a small house in the mountains, writing a letter to his former student and sending a small souvenir. More stories followed from there. The only difference is that he was _no_ longer alone.

He would _never_ be.

**The End **

**Author's Note**

**(1)** It's also known as Scopolamine, Burundanga (In Spanish) or "Devil's Breath", an alkaloid extracted from plants such as stramonium (Datura stramonium) or Brugmansia/Angel's Trumpet (Brugmansia arborea)

**(2)** Also known as nitrogen oxide or nitrous oxide, obtained by the chemist Humphrey Davy in 1778. It's an inert gas that produces transitory states of relaxation. It's quite applicable in dentistry patients.

**(3)** The lightning rod was invented in 1753 by Benjamin Franklin, one of the founding fathers of the United States of America. The first models to be installed were known as "Franklin Lightning Rods", in homage to their inventor.

**(4)** Lichtenberg figures (Lichtenberg-Figuren, or Lichtenberg Dust Figures) are images produced by branching, arborescent electrical discharges, which sometimes form on the surface or inside insulating materials or on the skin of people who survived after being struck by lightning. They are named after the German physicist Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, who discovered and studied them.

**And with this we come to the end of this story, but not of this journey. We are planning a future sequel to this story that is coming very soon**


End file.
